


Tapetum Lucidum

by seventhstar



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Addiction, Angst, Dark, Drama, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Manipulation, Mental Health Issues, Past Child Abuse, Prostitution, Psychological Trauma, Romance, Underground Dueling, tags and pairings added as the story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-15 14:39:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 66,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1308523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhstar/pseuds/seventhstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heartland City’s underground dueling scene is under attack.</p><p>Strange, mind-altering cards called Numbers are appearing all over. Duelists are found soulless in the streets. A new drug, Barianite, is said to enhance a duelist’s game — but at a cost, and once they’re addicted, getting their next fix is no easy feat.</p><p>Ryoga just wants to collect enough Barianite to save his sister before her condition can kill her. Kaito just wants to finish the job so his brother can be freed. And Yuuma wants to end the fighting over the Numbers, quickly, because the collateral damage is piling up fast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dark Soul Over

**Author's Note:**

> In this chapter: Kaito tries to move on; Ryoga breaks down and breaks in; Yuuma is optimistic.

Kaito didn’t want to move, after it was over.

Shark was still underneath him, bent over the table, with Kaito’s arms folded across the back of his shoulders. It had to be an uncomfortable position, but Shark didn’t say anything until Kaito eased out of him, and off of him, and produced a handkerchief (it was Chri — it was V’s, or had been, and Kaito folded it so that the monogram was hidden before he pressed it into Shark’s hands) for him to clean up with. There were bruises on Shark’s bare skin that stuck out vividly, revealed by the low cut of his shirt and the wide sleeves of his jacket, visible even after he began to dress. After he was done with the handkerchief, he tossed it to the floor; Kaito took great satisfaction in imagining V finding it later.

But he wasn’t supposed to thinking about V. That was the whole point of this — Kaito searched for a word that would delay the inevitable self-loathing — transaction.

Shark finished getting dressed, the snap of his belt buckle echoing loudly in the warehouse. Kaito was already decent, but then again, he hadn’t done much more than unzip. He hadn’t really wanted to be naked in front of Shark.

He supposed Shark was used to it. (He supposed that for Shark there wasn’t really a choice.)

“Well?”

Shark leaned against the edge of the table. “You dueled three duelists last week.”

“That isn’t a question.”

“Who’s their supplier?

So that was what Shark was after. He looked too good to be an addict, though. his eyes weren’t bloodshot, his voice and hands were steady, and he wasn’t manic the way duelists coming down from a high often were, frantic and unfocused in their desperation to get more.

He considered the question. He knew that Heartland was the one in charge of distributing the Barianite, with Droite and Gauche underneath him. And they had several underground dueling rings they frequented, where they gave out Barianite to the winners and let it trickle across the city. Presumably they had ways of guarding it so that it wasn’t stolen from them. Even if he told Ryoga where they were, Ryoga would just have to duel for it, and the worst thing that could happen to him was that he’d end up possessed by a Numbers.

It would be unpleasant for him, but it would help Kaito. He had a quota to meet, and if he failed, neither Tron nor Faker nor the Barians would show him any leniency. Kaito could not fail.

But Kaito was the best. That was why he was willing to endure the increasingly difficult circumstances, and the nightmares, and the pain, and the fact that he had become the kind of man who traded information for sex. He was not just a Hunter, but the Hunter, and that meant he could capture more Numbers and obtain more Barianite than anyone else.

He was willing to have a stained soul if it would keep Haruto alive.

“They were working out of a dueling ring on 4th and 27th. It’s called the Bright Heart.”

He felt bad for Shark (what a stupid nickname). He was walking into a dangerous place; the Bright Heart was invitation only.

Shark nodded to himself, one hand twitching towards the fang around his neck. A tell, Kaito thought, as Shark’s hand dropped again.

“We’re done here,” he said, and he started to walk away, hands in his pockets.

“How did you find me?”

Kaito wasn’t a street duelist, not in the tradiitonal sense. And his soulless victims could hardly tell tales.

Shark stopped. He smirked at Kaito over his shoulder, but he didn’t answer.

Then he started walking again. He was very steady for someone who’d just been fucked over a table. Kaito envied him his calm as he reached for his D-gazer; it seemed it was time for Orbital 7 to stop fooling around. They had work to do.

+++++

_Don’t think about it. Just remember what you’re here for._

The Bright Heart went dark as the audience — the bookies with their pages of bets, the recruiters in their sharp suits, the duelists in their flashy colors, the spectators all varying degrees of drunk — was seated. The ring that took up most of the room was the only thing lit; a steel cage was lowered over top of it, to keep the duelists inside. There would be no forfeit accepted, no surrender allowed this night.

It was win or lose.

Ryoga was in a seat at the bar, away from the audience, his full glass still sitting on the wooden surface. There was a bitter, sour taste in his mouth, from the bile he’d swallowed, and the favors he had performed to get in here, but he didn’t dare take even a sip. He needed all his wits tonight. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to calm the nausea in his stomach; but his belly roiled, his teeth clenched, his hands would have trembled if he weren’t sitting on them. The announcer was beginning to speak, his voice painting a picture for his listeners: two duelists, of equal and great talent, risking everything for a mysterious prize. He made it sound almost noble.

Ryoga wondered if anyone bought it. He knew that the duelists were just thugs, looking for a fix that they couldn’t get anywhere else; he knew that the prize was really a taste of the highest quality Barianite, and a chance to feel a rush of power for a few brief hours before the drug wore off and reality, cold, pathetic reality, came crashing in. He had seen the duelists outside the club on his way in. Their eyes were hungry. They were too addicted to duel without the Barianite, but they were too addicted to stop dueling for it, and the paradox left them with nothing.

He understood the hunger too well. After all, he was here for the Barianite, too.

It looked nothing like the stadium from Nationals, he told himself, but the sight of the scoreboard and the duelists prepping their disks still made him ill. He took a deep breath, swallowing down the memories.

_“It’s Shark’s turn, but he hasn’t played yet! What is happening?”_

_Fire and smoke. Strands of singed blue hair over bright red skin. They were saying that he had saved her, but Ryoga knew better; he knew that his opponent wasn’t just an asshole, but a murderer._

_And yet he had no drive to defeat him. He knew the truth: it was not IV’s fault that Rio was comatose. It was his._

_It should have been me, Ryoga thought, and he put his hand over his deck in surrender, in penance —_

The crowd roared as the duelists drew their hands, jerking Ryoga out of his own mind. He shivered.

 _You knew this was coming,_ he reminded himself. _Don’t fall apart. Or you’ll end up like those guys outside._

One of the duelists was using a card he recognized. It sucked Ryoga back into the past — it had been Rio’s card, back when she dueled and walked and spoke and breathed without the aid of machines — and she had been very good. She’d been strong and brave and intensely focused.

If she could see him now, gagging and sweating, completely unseated by the sight of a dueling ring, she would — Ryoga covered his mouth with his hand, feeling the pressure all over again, the doctor’s voice in his ear saying _her organs are failing,_ the crowd screaming _Shark! Shark!_

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t even move. He was a failure, he was disgusting, he couldn’t stand being in the room; Ryoga almost bolted, held in place only by the last of his resolve.

_I can’t think like this. It doesn’t matter what happens to me, as long as Rio…_

He kept his eyes just above the ring. He had hardly moved, he realized dimly, for all the turmoil inside him, and with the noise of the duel ongoing and the fact that he was sitting away from both the entrance and the audience, no one was even looking in his direction. If he could just hold it together for a little longer.

One of the duelists taunted the other — standard trash talk, but Ryoga heard it in another voice, a mocking voice that he heard in his dreams through walls of fire and clouds of smoke — and that was too much. There was a bathroom only a few yards away; he stood up, forcing his legs to move without shaking, and walked, not ran, into it.

The moment the door closed behind him, Ryoga collapsed.

He took deep breaths, or tried to; the air wouldn’t move into his lungs, his heart beat fast, and it was too hot in the bathroom, and none of his limbs would move correctly, and all Ryoga could hear and see was the hospital, Rio’s body covered in bandages, the heart monitor beating steady and slow, the doctors whispering about survival rates and surgeries and life support —

It took him a long time to regain control. By then, he was leaning back against one of the sinks; he noticed then that the bathroom was filthy, and it smelled, and after tracking down Kaito and then having to convince Rikuo and Kaio to bring him along, it hurt to sit on the hard tile floor. Ryoga shielded his nose with the sleeve of his jacket and thought.

_I can’t waste any more time._

Ryoga looked up. There was a vent on the wall across from him. It was small, but so was he; he could probably fit, if he were willing to be uncomfortable.

The vent couldn’t be worse than the bathroom, and there was no way he was going to be able to steal anything otherwise, not without being noticed. Ryoga had to use the sink for support to haul himself upright, but he did.

Thirty minutes and a painful, cramped crawl through a dusty ventilation shaft later, Ryoga found another vent that led into a room.

An occupied room, Ryoga saw, and he scooted backwards as quietly as possible in case one of them looked at the vent. There were two of them; a woman and a man, the woman with a stern face, the man’s expression suggesting he was about to get into trouble. They were brightly dressed, like duelists, and they were carrying disks and deck cases, but what were they doing back here, then?

“…a dangerous plan.”

“Oh, come on, Droite! Don’t be a stick in the mud. Heartland said it was alright.”

“Gauche, the case —”

“The case will be fine! When was the last time you dueled?”

The woman frowned, but her fingers twitched towards her belt. Ryoga watched as she stepped forward; he could see that she was carrying a briefcase in her right hand. It was ordinary: bron leather, shiny, no visible locks. Ryoga felt a jolt when he saw it, and he knew.

Impossible — there was no way — and yet Ryoga had heard the rumors that beloved city icon Mr. Heartland was somehow a criminal, and these two were duelists who apparently didn’t duel much, and there was nothing else of value here in the underground dueling rings. It was too good to be true.

“Alright.” Droite set the case on the table gingerly. “Let’s go.”

The two left, the door clicking shut behind them, and once Ryoga could no longer hear their footsteps, he moved the vent cover and slid down onto the floor. He brushed the dust off his body as he walked, slowly, towards the case.

There was a simple latch holding it closed. Ryoga looked around once more, and then he opened the briefcase. Nestled in the black velvet lining were twelve large pink rocks, crystals filled with light, Barianite that was larger and brighter than any Ryoga had ever seen. He’d heard about the exorbitant prices of the barely-glowing pink powder that was common place all over Heartland now, but this was the real stuff, almost blinding, worth its weight in gold.

He closed the case and hefted it; he expected an alarm to go off, or for something to happen, from the way Droite had handled the case, but nothing did. It could be a silent alarm. The case would be rigged to blow. It could be anything. Which meant he had to leave quickly.

There was no window in the office, so Ryoga had to risk the door. He opened it to an empty hallway, to silence, and he fled.

He found a door leading out back without running into anyone else, and he ran across the city to the hospital. His lungs burned like the air was on fire. His legs ached like he’d been beaten. The briefcase kept knocking into him as he sprinted, and every time it did it left bruises. Everything around him seemed to be blurred; later, he wouldn’t remember what route he’d taken or the near misses with cars.

But no one tried to stop him.

Ryoga reached the hospital, and thought the night nurse gave him an odd look, she let him sneak into Rio’s room. He approached the bed, where Rio lay still as death, and set the briefcase beside her.He opened it, and gently lifted out the first stone. He set it beside her hand, and when he placed her palm over it, the light drained into her, seeping away into her skin. The heart monitor beeped faster.

+++++

“Hey, Astral.”

“Yuuma.” Astral floated upside down over Yuuma’s hammock. “You are awake.”

“I was just thinking.” Yuuma held up the card he’d been carrying around since the moment the duel had ended, the one that street duelist had left behind when he’d run away after he’d lost. Yuuma could still remember the frightened look in his blue eyes before he’d fled. He hadn’t even given Yuuma his name.

He wondered if the duelist was in danger. If he were lonely. If he had noticed that his Black Ray Lancer was missing.

“We should go look for that guy again tomorrow.”

“He does not have a Numbers,” Astral said. His head was cocked to the side. “And he is dangerous, is he not?”

“Nah.” Yuuma tucked the card back into his deck case, next to Hope. “I could tell from his duel. I bet he’s cool.”

“Then perhaps tomorrow, we will find him.”

“Yeah,” Yuuma said. He could feel his heart beating fast. There was something exciting about to happen, he thought. He could feel it.


	2. Splash Capture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryoga gets caught -- twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for some blood and violence.

“I can’t believe you made me get up early on a school day.” Yuuma kicked at the street as they walked. They were passing Heartland General now, and there were people everywhere despite the faint morning sun only just having risen; doctors in white coats, nurses in scrubs, patients with sick and somber faces, coming off the trains and out of cars lined up along the curb.

The last time Yuuma had come here, Kazuma had been in the hospital. Yuuma touched the Key hanging around his neck; now that Kazuma was gone, all that was left of him was his deck, and the Key, and the memories. He had disappeared; no bones to bury, no ashes to spread, just the hole in Yuuma’s life and the echo of his Kattobingu in Yuuma’s heart.

Seeing the hospital depressed him; Yuuma hoped he’d never need to come here again.

“Yuuma.”

“I could have slept in. We haven’t even _seen_ any Numbers.”

“Yuuma.”

“You’re so anno —”

“There.” Astral pointed. Yuuma followed the white-blue line of his arm and saw a familiar head of purple hair, long tendrils like an octopus’s, a few yards away. “Is that not the duelist you were looking for?”

It was him, Yuuma thought. The duelist whose Black Ray Lancer he had.

Yuuma waved at him, but he wasn’t looking in his direction. “Hey!”

That got a response — the duelist stopped him and started to run in the opposite direction. There was something off about his gait; he was too slow, too unsteady. He was running away, Yuuma thought, and why, he didn’t know, but he couldn’t let happen. He had to give back the card, and he didn’t even know that guy’s name, and maybe his eyes were not as blue as Yuuma remembered, best if Yuuma checked to be sure —

Yuuma caught up, reaching out to steady him, but the duelist jerked his arm away before Yuuma could touch him.

“What do you want?”

He was swaying a little on his feet. There were dark circles under his eyes, a black bruise on his chest half-hidden by the cut of his shirt. He was white-faced and though his hair was damp and he looked clean enough, his clothes were torn: a hole in one knee, frayed cuffs, the fabric over the elbows worn thin. The strands of hair around his face were thick and shiny, and Yuuma felt a sudden urge, to reach out and brush the hair off Shark’s face and behind his ear.

“Are you okay?” Yuuma held out his hand again, because with every passing second he looked more like he might fall down, and this time the duelist let Yuuma grip him by the elbow. “What’s your name?”

Wide blue eyes focused on him. “…Shark.”

“I’m Yuuma. Yuuma Tsukumo.” Yuuma squeezed Shark’s arm reassuringly. He’d looked much better the first time they’d met — he’d be snarky and angry and full of tension. He looked around and spotted a cafe across the street. It was empty. “You should sit down, come on.”

“Leave me alone,” Shark said. He kept glancing over his shoulder, eying the crowd around him, even though they were mostly being ignored. Maybe he was in trouble, Yuuma thought, remembering Kotori’s warnings about delinquents and taking care of himself. But Shark didn’t seem to be a danger to anyone but himself.

He dragged Shark across the road and into the cafe; Shark protested, but he didn’t pull away again, and he slid into the other side of the booth. His fingers were ice cold.

“You still haven’t told me what you want.”

Yuuma dug Black Ray Lancer out of his deck case and slid it across the table. Shark tucked it into his jacket. There were menus on the table; the pictures of cake made Yuma’s stomach growl and his mouth water. He’d left his lunch at home today because of Astral; Astral didn’t need to eat, so he often ignored the fact that Yuma did.

The look in Shark’s eye when he saw them reminded Yuuma of the first two months after his parents disappeared — Akari scrambling for work, empty hours, the silence where his parents had laughed — and the hunger, because sometimes there wasn’t food. When the waitress came by to take their order, Yuuma ordered two pieces of cake and two cups of coffee.

“Do you go to a private school?” Yuuma asked. Shark wasn’t wearing a uniform. And maybe some conversation would relax him.

“No.”

“Do you live near here?”

“No.”

“Your deck is pretty cool. I guess you must really like sharks, right?”

Yuuma expected another ‘no’ from Shark, sharp and hard, like a door was being slammed in Yuuma’s face, but instead Shark’s expression softened.

“It was a gift from my dad.”

“Mine was too!” Someone sitting a table nearby looked up, and Yuuma rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he lowered his voice. “He must be proud of you — you’re really strong! I almost lost and —”

He could tell from the way Shark’s eyes dropped to the table that he’d said the wrong thing.

“Sorry.”

“Whatever.”

“My parents vanished on an expedition when I was six.” Yuuma smiled sadly as Shark’s eyes flicked back up to his face. “But since I have his deck, it’s like he’s still here with me…”

There was a steel fang hanging around Shark’s neck. He toyed with it as Yuuma waited for a response; his shoulders had pulled back a bit, the tension eased.

The waitress brought their food. Yuuma nearly forgot about his own cake for a moment, distracted by the way Shark ate — he didn’t waste so much as a crumb, and he made no mess, but the cake was gone very quickly — before he bit into his own. It was light, fluffy, and sweet, and Yuuma was hungry, and before long there were two empty cups and two empty plates between them.

“What are you doing out here?” Shark asked. “It’s early.”

“I was going to sleep in, but then Astral woke me up.”

“Astral?”

Astral had been very clear with Yuuma about telling strangers about him and the Numbers. _It’s not safe,_ he’d said. _You must be careful._

He couldn’t remember what the danger was, though, which made Yuuma question if it actually existed. All the Numbers duelists they’d dueled so far were fine once Yuuma won the duel.

“Uh…my…imaginary friend!”

“Your imaginary friend woke you up.”

“…yes?”

“That was careless of you,” Astral said, and Yuuma had nearly forgotten he was there, watching Yuuma and probably memorizing everything about this moment so that he could bring it up the next time Yuuma made a mistake dueling. He turned and glared at him, and Astral sighed, and then Yuuma realized that he was glaring at an invisible person and stopped.

“So you’re just hanging out at the hospital.”

“I was supposed to be collecting Numbers but —” Yuuma scrambled. “Uh, the card shop was closed! So I couldn’t buy any Numbers cards!”

People were staring at them again.

“Numbers — that was that XYZ monster you wouldn’t shut up about. Hope.”

Yuuma couldn’t use Hope against Shark, because of Astral’s life being at risk every time he played it, but he had wanted to — he had some XYZ monsters of his own, now, but none of them were as good as Hope, who always gave Yuuma a warm feeling when it was on the field.

Although maybe he shouldn’t have said all that to Shark while they were dueling. But Shark didn’t even have a Numbers, so it was probably safe, wasn’t it?

 _Maybe if I just fudge the details,_ Yuuma thought. _That duel with Tokunosuke was pretty funny, right? I’ll cheer Shark up._

The story of Tokunosuke and his two-sided viewpoint didn’t quite get a smile, but the crease between his brows shrank, and when Yuuma exaggerated his own mistakes for Shark’s benefit he got a tiny smirk (okay, Yuuma admitted, maybe he had been kind of overexcited in that duel).

The longer Yuuma talked, the more alert Shark looked. He straightened up, and leaned forward, and they kept making eye contact, and Yuuma wanted to reached out and touch Shark’s hand where it rested on the table, but he remembered how Shark had flinched away before and he didn’t. He told Shark about how when he was seven Kazuma took him mountain climbing and showed him how Kattobingu was written in the stars. He told him about how last year Akari had won a prize for journalism and they’d gotten lost on the way back from the ceremony and ended up standing on the side of the road in the rain. Shark almost laughed when Yuuma described Akari’s temper, which as terrifying, and he wondered if there was someone in Shark’s life like that — someone who scolded him, and fussed over him.

“Yuuma.”

“Shh, Astral,” Yuuma hissed out of the corner of his mouth.

“Yuuma —”

“Don’t you have school?” Shark asked.

Yuuma looked at the clock on the wall nearest. And then he looked at it again, and again, because it couldn’t be correct, and oh no, he would never make it to school in five minutes and the teacher would call Akari and then he’d be dead.

“Astral, why didn’t you warn me?” Yuuma asked as he snatched up his bag and threw the money for the cake on the table. Shark raised an eyebrow at him, and oh no, Yuuma was going to be that weird guy who talks to himself in Shark’s memory, wasn’t he, _thanks Astral for making me look uncool,_ Yuuma thought.

“I go to Heartland Academy,” Yuuma said as he pulled the strap of his bag over his shoulder and tried to remember which train line would take him to school. “Me and my friends hang out in the plaza by the station there after school! You should hang out with us!”

“I —”

“We can have a rematch!” Yuuma yelled over his shoulder, as somewhere a clock tower rang and school started across the city and he sprinted out the door, Astral’s voice in his ear reminding him to keep their secrets. His heart was pounding; whether it was front that last look on Shark’s face, more amused than troubled, or from the fact that he was going to miss first period, he didn’t know.

+++++

“Kaito-sama? It’s Droite.”

Kaito pulled his phantom hand out of the defeated duelist’s chest. The soul was bright blue, the same as all the others, and with it came the Numbers card she’d wielded against him. Kaito kept his collected Numbers in a separate box from his actual deck, and once the card was secured, he nodded at Orbital 7 to bring up Droite’s call.

Her holographic face was stern — mouth set, eyes narrowed — and he was relieved. Droite was a solemn person, but the anxiety that had been in her eyes the last time they’d spoken was gone.

“Droite.”

“We caught him.” She turned the phone, and he caught a glimpse of a chair with Shark tied to it. His head was lolling to one side; he must have put up a fight. “He’s not talking, and we’ve wasted too much time trying to find him.”

“Where was he?”

“Hiding out in a condemned building by the water tower,” Droite said. “The two who brought him to the Bright Heart didn’t know much. We had to cross-reference his face against all the traffic camera footage, and even then Gauche and I didn’t find him until we cleared the neighborhood on foot.”

She took a deep breath. “He was alone, Kaito. There was nothing on him, and there’s nothing on the footage from the Bright Heart to show how he moved the case without blowing himself up.”

“If someone else has the technology to stabilize the Barianite, our operation is over.”

The Barianite was the reason there were so many duelists — and by extension, so many possessions by Numbers — happening in Heartland City. If someone else could stabilize it and use it, then they would lose control of the market. Kaito swallowed. The supply of Barianite was restricted by the Barians as it was. If they started losing it to thieves, there would be nothing left for Haruto.

“We’re holding him in the basement of the Burnt Heart. Come and see if you can get anything out of him.”

The Burnt Heart was another of Heartland’s dueling clubs; it was also, as far as Kaito knew, Heartland’s base of operations. He rarely had occasion to be there, and Mr. Heartland made his skin crawl.

Kaito nodded. The screen went dark, and Orbital 7 transformed into glider mode and carried him into the night sky. Among the stars, Kaito could think more clearly.

…he would have to tell Droite and Gauche how he’d met Shark, now, and that would be unpleasant. Worse yet, the information would get passed onto Tron and the Arclights as well. Chris would know.

 _I was careless_ , Kaito thought. _I assumed he wasn’t skilled enough to steal the Barianite, if he had to lower himself to selling his body for information._

_Then again, who am I to judge him for that? I’ve sold myself, too._

The roof of the Burnt Heart was flat — perfect for an easy landing. Kaito walked down the stairs with Orbital 7 complaining behind him about useless fish, heart pounding even more than usual. The pain was beginning to come more frequently.

Gauche and Droite were waiting, on the other side of the room from where Shark was cuffed to a chair. There was blood spattered across his jacket.

“Where did you find him?” Gauche asked.

Kaito winced. He glanced over at Shark, checking to make sure he was unconscious still, and then he told them.

He kept it as short as possible trying to drain all the emotion out of his voice, but neither of them could hide their disgust. Droite recovered first, and she told him that Shark, real name Ryoga Kamishiro, was an orphan — foster mother had declared him a run away a few years ago — and that other than an appearance in the Nationals last year, he was a ghost. No arrests, no one who knew what he did with his time, and his only living relative was in a coma at Heartland General after a fire.

“No track marks on him.” Gauche said. “He’s not using the Barianite for himself, it wasn’t on him, and no one else is selling it.”

“If he’d sold it, we’d know. There would be energy spikes out on the street by now.” Kaito had been tracking energy levels since Droite had let him know the case had been taken. Things were normal.

“Get him to talk,” Droite said flatly. “Mr. Heartland is getting impatient. He and Tron are meeting with the Barians soon.”

The Barians, Kaito understood, were not particularly merciful. And with Arclights hunting successfully for Numbers every night, Heartland — and by extension, Droite and Gauche — would be taking the fall.

“Leave us alone. I’ll find out what we need to know.”

Their footsteps echoed into silence as the door swung shut behind them. There was a pocketknife, blood on the tip, left sitting on a table. Kaito walked over to the chair, and inhaled, slowly, steeling himself for what would no doubt be unpleasant.

And then he grabbed Shark’s — Ryoga’s, he corrected himself — head by the hair and jerked it upright.

“What the fuck,” Ryoga snapped, and Kaito let him go.

“Where’s the Barianite?”

“Fuck you, too, asshole.” Ryoga bared his teeth at him. They were surprisingly white, considering his living situation.

“Let me explain something to you.”

Kaito picked up the knife. There was a long thin scratch on Ryoga’s face, still bleeding. Had Droite put it there, or Gauche? Droite was more precise, but then Gauche knew the stakes. He was protective of Haruto, and he, too, could be cruel.

“You are a liability.” Kaito pressed the edge of the blade against Ryoga’s throat; a line of fresh blood appeared there. A drop of blood trailed down his throat. He froze, but Kaito caught the tremble in his hands where they were cuffed to the arms of the chair. “We tracked you down. We know that you acted alone. Which means that unless you make yourself useful to me right now, I’m going to cut your throat.”

Ryoga looked at him. His mouth curled. “Go ahead,” he said. “Have fun trying to extract the answers you want from my corpse.”

His tone was defiant. But his hands betrayed him again.

“Answer my questions,” Kaito said. “Maybe you’ll live. Or don’t answer them and I’ll kill you. Your choice.”

The words were easier to say than Kaito had thought they would be. Haruto’s gaunt face was there in his mind; Haruto was so different now, crueler, colder, always asking for screams. It was only fitting that Kaito join him there, in whatever darkness had overtaken him.

He waited, watching the blood drip down Ryoga’s throat, trying not to imagine the spray of blood that would burst forth if he —

“Fine.” Ryoga shuddered. “I don’t have the Barianite. I—I gave it away.”

“Gave it to who?”

Ryoga didn’t answer, even when Kaito widened the cut in his neck and he had to grit his teeth to muffle a pained noise.

“I can’t tell you,” he said finally. “Kill me if you want.”

Kaito considered it. There was more he wanted to know. And Ryoga might still give something away.

“How did you get the Barianite out of the building safely?”

“Why do you guys keep asking me that question?” Ryoga rolled his eyes. “I picked up the briefcase. I opened the door. I left. It wasn’t even locked — what the hell were you expecting to happen?”

Kaito stared at him. Was he serious? Droite and Gauche wore protective gloves that kept the case stable when they moved it. And they ran all the stones through a stabilizing device, a glass tube that made it safe to handle — Kaito had seen it done for Haruto’s treatments. Moving that briefcase barehanded should have left Ryoga with third degree burns at the very least.

Ryoga’s expression didn’t change, though, so Kaito left him alone. He found Droite and Gauche’s safe, where there was still some Barianite left, and a pair of gloves for himself. He gingerly lifted the smallest piece there, no bigger than a grain of rice, and brought it back to where Ryoga was waiting.

“Watch.” Kaito threw the piece across the room.

It burst into flames where it hit the floor, smoke billowing everywhere, flashes of pink lightning in the air, and it left a crater and a ring of scorch marks on the concrete.

“You handled it without gloves?”

Ryoga nodded. He was too shocked to speak.

“How did you find me?”

“The duelists you put in the hospital were from a gang. They got the duel footage off his D-gazer and saw you.” Ryoga closed his eyes briefly. Whatever he was remembering distressed him. “I heard there was a hit out on a guy with a Photon Deck who left all his opponents in comas. Every duelist you fought was rolling Barianite. I figured you were targeting them.”

“And?” He was holding something back. Why had Ryoga been interested in a hit on a duelist like Kaito in the first place?

“My sister went into a coma after she was in a duel. I thought maybe it was related somehow.”

That had not been in Ryoga’s profile, and Kaito filed it away for later. Gauche had told him it was a fire. The discrepancy probably wasn’t important, but…

“That Barianite was valuable,” Kaito said. “And since you can’t replace it, you’ll have to repay us some other way.”

He found the keys to Ryoga’s cuffs on a shelf, and he undid them. Ryoga stood up, rubbing his wrists as he did, and didn’t attempt to bolt immediately. He wasn’t a complete idiot, then. Kaito was still uncertain as to how intelligent he really was — if Ryoga was telling the truth, his stealing the Barianite successfully had been out of his control entirely.

 _It’s odd,_ Kaito thought. _If he can somehow manipulate the Barianite on his own, then maybe that’s something we can use against the Barians. Killing him would be a waste._

“Get up.”

“What are you doing?”

“We’re going for a walk.” Kaito gestured at Orbital 7, who had had the sense to remain quiet throughout the interrogation. “Orbital. Find me a target.”

He grabbed Ryoga firmly by the arm.

“Do you still have a deck?”

“I’m not fucking dueling you —”

“Where is it?”

“I stashed it.”

“We’ll pick it up on our way.” Kaito dragged him towards the door. “I want to see if you can handle it.”

“Handle what?”

“Hunting.”


	3. Dark Hunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryoga becomes a Numbers Hunter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: injections, mentions of noncon, intense duel training, mentions of prostitution

“Hold out your arm,” Kaito ordered.

They were in a warehouse in a part of the city that Ryoga had been hoping to avoid. It was grimy and grey, and cold, and at any minute, they were going to be found and Ryoga was going to have to run for it.

He glanced down at the shiny new duel disk that had just been strapped to his forearm, his deck secured in the slot, and didn’t move. Kaito ordering him around had been annoying when he was tied to a chair and was rapidly making Ryoga’s blood pressure rise; only the knowledge that Kaito would probably kill him if he did anything stupid kept him from punching him repeatedly in the face.

Not only had Kaito interrogated him at knifepoint and dragged him all over the city so that Ryoga could retrieve his deck, but he had been hanging onto Ryoga’s arm most of the way, leaving bruises, and if he didn’t stop touching him, Ryoga thought, he was going to start demanding he get paid for it.

Kaito slapped a long thin tube to the underside of the duel disk. “This is a duel anchor. It’ll hold your opponent so they can’t run away.”

“Why do I need —”

“Well, well. Look who’s turned up.”

Ryoga turned slowly around.

It was Rikuo and Kaio. _Of course it’s them,_ he thought, as Kaito started messing with his duel disk again. It was a newer model than Ryoga’s stolen, secondhand one, left behind in a dumpster somewhere as Kaito hauled him across the city, new even than Rikuo and Kaio’s disks.

Speaking of disks, Ryoga noted that Kaio and Rikuo were both wearing theirs.

The two stared at him. They were smiling, which was always a bad sign; Rikuo and Kaio were never happy to see him unless they were going to do something to him, like demand that he let them fuck him or make him participate in one of their stupid plans in a way that was sure to get him arrested. And since they had brought him to the Bright Heart and Ryoga had used that opportunity to steal a case of Barianite…

“Did you think you could just use us, Ryoga?” Rikuo asked. “After everything we’ve done for you?”

“The last time I saw you you told me I was your bitch and I should shut up,” Ryoga said. “You haven’t done shit for me.”

“Mr. Heartland was going to have us killed,” Kaio said. “Luckily, he said that if we defeated you, we were off the hook. Sorry.”

“You can apologize after I’ve beaten your asses,” Ryoga said, with bravado that he didn’t feel.

“Here.” At that moment Kaito slapped a button on Ryoga’s disk, and two long ropes of light fired out from underneath it and hooked onto Rikuo and Kaio’s respective disks. “If you finish them off, I’ll take you to Tron. You can see about repaying your debt with something other than your life.”

“And if he loses?” Rikuo asked. He sounded suspiciously eager. Ryoga could guess what would happen if he did lose, and the thought made him ill, so he put it out of his mind. He would just have to win. Even if he could run away, Rikuo and Kaio would make his life miserable until they had their revenge.

When was the last time he had dueled? It had been against Yuuma, and he had lost that one. Ryoga replayed it turn by turn in his mind as Rikuo and Kaio activated their disks. He had made mistakes, and that was why he had lost. It wasn’t about skill, he told himself as he drew his hand and tried to block out his opponents’ taunting. He could have won. He could still win, if he had to.

He heard the words ‘cheating at the Nationals’ and bit his lip so hard it nearly bled. Ryoga stared at his cards. Traps and spells and monsters stared back at him. The eyes of the sharks depicted seemed to be judging him; they were predators, and he was a fish on the line, about to be gutted if he couldn’t squirm away.

 _Don’t think of yourself as prey._ Ryoga took a deep breath as Rikuo took the first turn. He could not yet look up and meet their eyes, meet their mocking gazes. Rikuo and Kaio were second rate duelists at best. They had been trying to break into the underground circuit and had had little success. They were only challenging Ryoga so confidently because they assumed, because Ryoga was willing to leverage sex for protection, that Ryoga was weak.

They had probably never had to give up anything, and the resentment galvanized him. It was his turn.

He drew.

+++++

Rikuo and Kaio were even more disgusting in person.

Kaito had spoken to them briefly, after Droite and Gauche had finished with them, to tell them where to meet him. They were Numbers duelists, according to the readings Orbital 7 had taken — the Bright Heart must have gotten them fired up enough for possession — and he had thought that it would be a good opportunity to see what Ryoga was made of. Would he hurt his own comrades to save himself? Could he handle the stress of being a Numbers Hunter?

They weren’t comrades. Judging from Rikuo and Kaio’s leers, in fact, they knew Ryoga the same way Kaito had, and the implications of Rikuo’s casual question — _and if he loses?_ — made his stomach turn. Killing Ryoga was one thing: unpleasant, but at least a justifiable evil. Kaito could hardly leave him to the hands of Rikuo and Kaio, though. It would be more merciful just to kill him, he thought, and that meant he would have to remain here until Ryoga was done dueling.

As he came to that decision, Orbital 7 beeped.

“Kaito-sama?”

“What is it, Orbital 7?”

“It’s Tron, Kaito-sama.”

Nothing else needed to be said. As much as Kaito loathed Tron, he could not refuse his summons. But Ryoga was not dueling particularly well at that moment, and Kaito calculated the odds in his head: would he be back in time for Ryoga to lose, or…

“Stay here, Orbital,” Kaito said. He would have to go to Tron alone, and risk it. Ryoga couldn’t be left, not if he continued to play this badly. His field was wide open, and Rikuo and Kaio were using a standard method of tag duel cheating that meant they would have Numbers on the field within a turn or two.

What a pity, Kaito thought. Ryoga was going to be useless after all.

+++++

_Can only be destroyed by other Numbers._

Ryoga stared up at Numbers 61 in silent terror. Even if he could inflict damage on it, that would take a turn or two to even set up, and in that time it could use its effect to chip away at his lifepoints. He couldn’t even defend against it — and with Numbers 19’s effect, no doubt chosen for this reason, Rikuo could just keep reloading the overlay units on his monster.

He was dimly aware of a voice in his brain telling him to focus, to get it together for Rio if not for himself, but the fear was overwhelming. Nothing seemed to make sense - he could barely read his own cards — why had he even thought he could win? He hadn’t won a duel in years, the last time he had dueled he had lost to some stupid kid —

_“He must be proud of you — you’re really strong! I almost lost and —”_

His father had given him some of these cards.

Ryoga blinked several times. He touched the fang at his throat again; the photo was still there, so clear in his memory that he never needed to look at it. His family, long ago when they were still all together. His parents, who he remembered as endlessly smiling and endlessly kind and too good to be true. His father had tried to teach him to duel, when Ryoga was still small, but Ryoga had grasped the game much quicker than he had, and before long it had been Ryoga who was trying to teach _him._

He hadn’t thought of his parents in what felt like years — the memories were always tinged with what he thought would be their disappointment, if they could see him now — but suddenly there was his father’s voice, reading to him from the rule book.

Ryoga swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at his cards again. He couldn’t afford to be sentimental right now.

“I summon Starfish!” The monster appeared in a flash of light. Ryoga stared at Rikuo’s Numbers, searching for a weak point. One had to exist. There were no invincible cards. What could he do to get rid of it, quickly?

 _Monster effect_ , he thought. _It’s just a monster effect. Effects can be negated._

“I special summon Shark Stickers!”

Ryoga fumbled at his Extra Deck. It was there, he thought, the card that could win him the duel. He had almost lost it, and then, incredibly, it had been returned to him.

He had pulled it from a pack while he was redoing his deck for Regionals. Things had been different then, less desperate — Ryoga had been focused only on dueling, sure that if he won against Rio, somehow, that would change everything, and he could go home again. It had spoken to him, the dark lancer, something about the image that resonated within him so much that he had added it to his Extra Deck without a second thought.

“I overlay the level three Shark Stickers and Starfish!”

Light coalesced in the air above him, an enormous swirling spiral that made his heart pound. The monsters glowed and shot upward, feeding the overlay network, creating the spiral that meant something powerful was coming. It was only AR, but it was still magnificent.

“I xyz summon Black Ray Lancer!”

He had forgotten that his monsters were beautiful, until Black Ray Lancer took the field. It was fierce. It was powerful. It was things that Ryoga was not, and it lent him strength.

 _The hell am I giving in to fucking Rikuo and Kaio,_ he thought, and he finally met Rikuo’s eyes. It was time for a counterattack.

+++++

“Oh, Kaito.”

Tron spoke up just as Kaito reached the door, before he could make his escape. Orbital 7 had just tried to reach him. The duel was over, and it had gone on for longer than Kaito had estimated, and he was anxious to see the results for himself.

“V and the others are far too busy hunting.” Tron toyed with the end of his braid. Kaito was certain he did it only to mock him. “So you won’t mind taking charge of training our newest recruit yourself.”

“I’m busy hunting.”

“Make time for him, then. Or maybe he can replace you?”

Kaito had no answer to that, none that he could make to Tron and still live, so he walked away. It was entirely possible that Ryoga had lost and there would be nothing for him to do but eliminate him, and what had his life become, Kaito thought, that he was looking at a murder as the better option.

Orbital 7 was calling him again. As soon as he was out of Tron’s hearing, Kaito answered.

“Well?”

“He won, Kaito-sama. I have him here, just as you requested. He collected the Numbers.”

“What do you mean?” Kaito hadn’t given Ryoga anything to collect the Numbers with. “He collected the Numbers with what?”

“With nothing, Kaito-sama. He just held out his hand, and the cards flew into his fingers.”

“And his opponents?”

“They ran away…”

Kaito only realized he was clenching his jaw in rage when he felt the pain. He had spent months perfecting his Photon Mode and reconfiguring Orbital 7 so he could hunt Numbers, and even then there were side effects, side effects that were literally killing him and leaving his opponents as soulless shells. Tron refused to share the crest technology he had given his sons, so Kaito had had to devise everything he needed on his own. The installation process he had used to outfit himself for Photon Mode had nearly ended him before he had the chance to use it.

And here was this — this brat, Kaito thought, this whore who stole cases of Barianite without protective gear and won duels despite having no dueling record in over year and collected Numbers with his bare hands, without knowing what they were, without even needing them the way Kaito needed them.

_I could just kill him anyway. Tron wouldn’t care._

He felt sick. Was that what he’d become? Someone who Tron would approve of?

Ryoga could still be useful. If he were alive, he could be studied and understood and Kaito, too, could become a better Hunter. He could still save Haruto even with a fifth person competing for the scarce supply of Numbers in Heartland City.

“Bring him to headquarters,” Kaito said. “And get me a blood sample.”

+++++

Ryoga stared at himself in the mirror.

It looked like a mirror, anyways; he suspected that the reflective walls of the circular chamber he’d been locked in were really made of one-way glass, and that Kaito was watching him from the outside. Let him, Ryoga thought, he’d show Kaito that he wasn’t afraid.

Even if he was.

After the duel, the robot and Kaito had brought him to a lab. It was white and cold, the light glaring, the walls covered in holoscreens and computers, a stretcher with straps dangling off the sides accompanied by a tray of scalpels and syringes sitting to one side. It was like a horror movie, and Ryoga had laid there while Kaito did what he told Ryoga was ‘preparation’.

Some of it was just cosmetic —  new clothes, much like his old ones, and a hot shower — and some of it was terrifying. Kaito had injected d-gazer nanites directly into his eye while he was strapped to a table, and then implanted trackers in his blood, and taped electrodes to him while Ryoga had to run on a treadmill and stretch and sit in a room while music blasted and the sound of a baby crying played.

Kaito took notes the whole time, taking readings off the machines Ryoga was hooked up to. He prodded the swollen, red skin around Ryoga’s eye where the nanites were settling. He recorded height and weight, and he would sometimes ask Ryoga questions, like how much pain he could withstand, or how long could he go without eating, that made him want to bolt for the door.

But there was no escape. When Kaito was finished, he handed Ryoga his new duel disk and led him to the circular chamber.

“This is to increase your strength,” Kaito had said as the doors slid shut. “We’ll stop when you can’t take any more.”

Ryoga tugged at the cuffs of his new jacket — the fabric felt warmer than his last one had, but it was still freezing in the chamber, so cold he could see his breath — and traced the bruise marks on his arm where the trackers had been injected. The needles had stung and the tests had been frightening, but it was his reflection, his face that if he could be squinted could have been a photograph from before, that was worst of all.

Without the trappings of a life in streets, he looked like the Ryoga of the Nationals again.

A whirring noise from above distracted him. Three holographic projectors dropped down from the ceiling, pointing directly at him, and the duel disk on his arm beeped at him. Ryoga frowned at it — what did it —

It shocked him. He cried out in pain and slapped the power button, and the disk clicked into place, the monster zones fanning out for use. The projectors all lit up, one by one, and then there were three monsters Ryoga had never seen before it. Each of them had a glowing number somewhere in its body. He noticed that his life points meter was flashing at him, 4000 in bright glowing digits, and then his disk beeped again.

This time he didn’t wait. He drew a hand of cards before it could shock him and examined them. Was this the second turn, if the monsters were already there? Was he allowed to attack? That would affect his strategy —

— another sharp shock that made Ryoga drop a card, and in the brief time it took him to pick up the card the monster on the left roared and blasted him with a stream of fire.

It was hot, and it hurt, and Ryoga could smell his singed hair as he was thrown back against the wall, hard, cracking his head against the metal and crumpling to the floor. He had kept his grip on his cards, though. The middle monster opened its mouth, and if he just sat there, there was be more pain, so Ryoga threw down a monster in defense mode and a trap card.

Another life point meter and two set cards appeared on the other side of the field. Now it was a real duel.

Three tense turns passed. Each of the Numbers had a dangerous ability, and the duelist he was playing was cautious, but once Ryoga brought Black Ray Lancer onto the field, he gained the upper hand.

Ryoga defeated all three Numbers, barely, his life points down to two hundred before he could lower his opponent’s to zero. He breathed a sigh of relief.

The next duel started with his life points halved. Two miraculously good draws let him win that one, too.

Two turns into the third duel Ryoga realized his Black Ray Lancer was no longer in his Extra Deck.

By the fifth duel he had no Extra Deck at all, and the loss was accompanied by a long hard shock, by an arc of pain that left him on his knees, by the ominous sound of the life point meter resetting for round six.

+++++

“He’s lasted longer than I expected.”

Ryoga had made it to the twentieth duel, and he was improving, too, despite the handicaps. Once he could win consistently without the Extra Deck, Kaito would add some other constraint — perhaps up the ability of the computerized opponent another notch — and he would wait until Ryoga learned to beat that one, too.

Kaito felt a stab of pride and then squashed it. It was bad for him if Ryoga succeeded; he would be one more person to compete with. He had already spared his life out of mercy; he couldn’t allow himself to think that he was anything but an enemy.

“He’s nowhere as impressive as you were, Kaito-sama,” Orbital 7 said.

The lab had been the Arclight lab once. Byron had conducted his research here, back when he was still a man and he and Faker were on good terms. Chris had worked here, too, and Thomas and Michael would show up after school to interrupt and demand their father come home and entertain them.

He and Chris had dueled here, in this very chamber — before, when it was just play, when Chris was promising that he’d teach Kaito everything he knew, when Chris followed him into the showers when they were done and held him close under the stream of hot water.

And then V had tested him here again, when Kaito decided that he had to become a Numbers Hunter, for Haruto’s sake. He had shown V his Photon Mode here, desperate to make V see him as a man. This had been the first place that Galaxy Eyes roared for him, and even after everything that had happened, the memory could make Kaito smile.

Unlike V, whose eyes gave away no feeling, whose sterile touch had left Kaito furious as he told Tron that Kaito was ‘acceptable’, his dragon would not betray him.

On the other side of the glass, Ryoga was glaring at the holograms, teeth bared, fists clenched. He was staggering to his feet more slowly every time, but he continued to stand.

_“That’s enough, Chris!” Faker said. His voice shook over the intercom. “Kaito’s been dueling for days!”_

_“Kaito is strong,” Chris said, and the corner of his mouth turned upwards. Kaito watched him smile, and even in his exhausted state he thought about kissing Chris. He was sweaty and pale and the room had begun to spin but even so his mind was clear. He could see the path to victory clearly._

_“That’s right.” It was his turn, and he drew. “I’ll show you what I’m capable of!”_

“…Kaito-sama?”

“Call me when he’s finished.” Kaito turned around and began walking away. There were too many memories here, too many familiar motions in Ryoga struggling to survive his first day of training.

+++++

He had lost count of how many duels he’d fought, how many he’d won, all the Numbers blurring together in his mind. The room kept tilting. Ryoga had to keep a hand on his disk, fingers spread to touch all the buttons, because exhaustion had slowed his reflexes and hurt his coordination. _Don’t stop,_ he thought, _don’t…give…up…_

WIN, the AR flashed at him, and he closed his eyes against the light and the pain, just for a moment.

When he woke he was somewhere else.

Ryoga rolled over and found that the floor underneath him was bare concrete, cold under his palms. He was still dressed the way he had been in the circular chamber, but his duel disk had been removed and his deck was back in his belt case. He was sore all over, and his chest ached a little when he breathed deeply. He sat up on his knees and rubbed at his eyes.

There was a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling above him. It was a small room, with dusty shelving on one wall stocked with brown glass bottles marked as hazardous. The door to Ryoga’s left was cracked open, so he hadn’t been locked in. His duel disk was on one of the shelves, and there was a cell phone next to it that was equally shiny and new. He strapped on the duel disk, running a hand over the dark blue casing to check for damage, and then picked up the phone.

One new message, the screen read. Ryoga hit play and then jumped as a hologram appeared midair.

“Ryoga Kamishiro.” Standing before him was the creepiest child Ryoga had ever seen — overdressed in ruffles and mint green, light blonde hair braided over his shoulder, a high-pitched voice like nails on a chalkboard, and half of his face was covered in an iron mask. It looked like it had come off a suit of armor somewhere. It was disturbing.

“We haven’t been formally introduced yet, have we? I’m Tron. It’s me who decided your life should be spared.”

Ryoga rolled his eyes.

“In exchange for the Barianite you stole, you’ll be collecting Numbers for me. I’m sure Kaito explained everything to you.” From Tron’s smile, Ryoga guessed he knew Kaito had explained nothing, had just experimented on him and made him duel until he dropped and then left him on the cold, hard ground. “You’ll collect two Numbers a week, Ryoga, and when you’ve finished repaying me, you’ll get a little salary in Barianite. Isn’t that nice?”

There was a pause. Even though it was a hologram, Ryoga still didn’t like looking into Tron’s eyes.

“I’ll be here to personally collect the Numbers at the end of the week. I look forward to seeing what you can do.” The hologram flickered off, and Ryoga pocketed the phone.

He left the closet and wandered the halls until he found a door that led outside. It was an empty building, silent, with every door he passed locked and every hallway identical and in decay. There was no sign on the building to tell him what it was, or where it was, although Kaito had referred to it as headquarters. Ryoga would have to keep track of it so he could return.

Later, though. Right now there was the pressing issue of where, exactly, he could get a Numbers. From what he had gathered from Kaito’s training and from dueling Rikuo and Kaio, it seemed he had to find duelists that had them already and beat them to obtain them. But how could he do that? How could he identify a duelist with a Numbers, unless they outright told him —

_“If I could use Hope in this you’d have lost already!”_

_“Then why don’t you use it?”_

_“Hope is a special card.” Yuuma preened. “It’s a Numbers, and it’s really strong so I can only —”_

Yuuma was looking for Numbers. Yuuma had told him so that morning in the coffee shop, that he was looking for them, because of his invisible friend — Ryoga had assumed he was just a weird kid but now he would have to rethink that — and though he’d claimed he was going to a card shop…he had seemed nervous. He had kept stopping to censor himself during the conversation. At the time Ryoga hadn’t cared about any of that.

Yuuma had at least one Numbers card. That was half his quota, more if Yuuma had multiple cards, and Ryoga already had seen his level of talent and knew that he had a chance of winning. And Yuuma had told him where he went to school and where he hung out. _I could find him,_ Ryoga thought. _I could…_

And then what? Yuuma’s face had lit up when he talked about Hope. Yuuma had held onto Ryoga’s ace card for weeks until they met again. Ryoga swallowed, the phantom taste of the cake in his mouth. He had been kind to him, had fed him and looked after him and let Ryoga sit and bask in the way his voice rose and feel with his excitement, let RYoga forget for a little while everything that was wrong with his life.

It was stupid, Ryoga thought, he didn’t even know Yuuma, not really, but the memory of his smile as he yelled that he wanted a rematch was bright in his mind, as fogged as it had been that morning. He could take Yuuma’s Numbers, but that would be a poor way of repaying him.

On the other hand, Yuuma wasn’t working with Kaito and the others — since if he had he wouldn’t have just left Ryoga alone — so he knew about the Numbers some other way. He could answer Ryoga’s questions. He would have to be careful, because Kaito had said all the Hunters were tracked and Ryoga could lead Kaito right to Yuuma, but at least it would be a start.

Ryoga headed to the nearest information booth to consult the map. He would have to find out where Heartland Academy was.

+++++

“Nii-san?”

Kaito blinked. Haruto was staring at him with his empty-eyed gaze, the diseased look that he had had for so long Kaito had almost forgotten what he used to look like when he smiled. He tugged at Kaito’s shirt.

“What is it, Haruto?” Kaito pulled Haruto into his arms. He was cold, and too thin, always too thin no matter what he was fed. He had no appetite for anything anymore, except…

“I need more screams,” Haruto said softly, plaintively, and Kaito nodded and embraced him and did not dare to look him in the eye.

The room was plush. There were toys, and games, and an enormous TV stacked with gaming consoles. There were trays of cakes and caramel flavored sweets. Outside the wall of windows was the Heartland Amusement Park, which his father had founded so long ago, and people were laughing down there and smiling while the ferris wheel lit up the sky. It was a perfect room for a child, and yet the food was untouched and the toys all put away neatly. Haruto was no longer a child; the disease had taken that from him too.

“Anything you want, Haruto,” Kaito whispered. “I will get it for you.”

“You look tired, Nii-san.”

“I’ve just been busy.”

He felt the exhaustion deep in his bones. Kaito had hunted for a while after he’d left Ryoga in a closet to recuperate, but it had been fruitless. His quota had been met, it was true, but he needed more. Haruto needed the treatments to be stronger, before he wasted away. And the Arclights were three and had the the advantage of being able to rely on each other, while Kaito hunted alone, and so he was falling behind, even thought against any one of them, he knew he could win. It was infuriating.

 _I’ve already given up my life, but…_ Kaito shivered. _It isn’t enough. I have to do more, or Haruto will never be safe._

“I have to go now,” he said, and he laid Haruto down and tucked him in. He picked up a frame that had been knocked over, displaying an old portrait — baby Haruto in Kaito’s arms, Orbital 7 squawking at them — and set it where Haruto could look at it. He smoothed his brother’s hair one last time before he kissed his forehead and headed towards the door. There was never enough time with Haruto; Kaito was ever-conscious of the ticking clock when he was with him.

The blood sample Orbital 7 had taken was in his pocket; perhaps it was time for Kaito to see just what Ryoga was.


	4. Invitation To A Dark Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no rest for the wicked, or for the virtuous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for violence and for drug addiction.

Ryoga watched the sunset from Rio’s room.

The view was incredible in there, one whole wall of glass, though it was wasted on Rio. The sun was always shining on her, though, and in the right light she could almost look like she were sleeping, the yellow sunlight hiding the way the coma had leeched the color from her cheeks and hollowed out her face. It was warm in there, no matter the time of day, and so Ryoga felt only slightly bad about removing the spare blanket kept under Rio’s bed for himself.

The one blanket at Tron’s headquarters was paper thin, and it was always cold there. Ryoga was tired of shivering.

She was stable so far, the nurse had told him as she let him in, but Ryoga knew it wouldn’t last. He still owed Tron another week’s worth of Numbers before he would be paid, and collecting the Numbers had proved to be difficult.

He had managed the first week, but not the second, and the punishment had been…Ryoga shook his head, banishing the memory. He’d endured worse, he reminded himself, there was nothing to be afraid of. And he hadn’t been killed for his failure.

_But why leave me alive?_

The thought nagged at him, but there was nothing Ryoga could do about it, so he left it alone.

Now it was week three, and Ryoga had four days to find two Numbers, and so far he had found nothing. Spying on the lower-league dueling rings, the ones that couldn’t afford clubs of their own and happened in back alleys where the streets were never paved and cars never ventured, had netted him good results so far. Barianite never reached these rings, so maybe, Ryoga had thought, Kaito wouldn’t bother with them.

He had never been active in the street dueling community, though, and he had exhausted most of his knowledge already. He was going to have to find another way, and that meant…

…Yuuma.

_“Hey, Astral.”_

_“Talking to your imaginary friend again?”_

_“Shark!” Yuuma smiled widely at him as he leaned against the backrest of the bunch. Ryoga noted absently there were rainbows on the pavement, refracted from somewhere, around Yuuma’s feet. He was wearing a school uniform, and he was alone, and there were crowds of commuters and students all around. No one would be paying them any attention._

Good, _Ryoga thought._ I can just make something up to tell Kaito if he asks what I was doing.

_“Do you wanna eat lunch with me?” Yuuma asked. Ryoga’s empty stomach roiled at his words, and Ryoga wanted to say no, that he just wanted a word, that he didn’t want to hang out, but his mouth didn’t obey him._

_“Whatever.”_

_Yuuma hopped up and grabbed his hand, and Ryoga only just refrained from pulling it away. He was led off the main plaza down a side street, to a stall where an old woman with a tight grey bun and purple lipstick was selling rice balls. She eyed them as Yuuma emptied his wallet out and paid for four rice balls with a small mountain of tarnished coins; she thought they were thieves, Ryoga mused, and so he felt only mildly guilty about snagging a fifth rice ball while her attention was diverted by Yuuma’s poor math skills._

_He stashed it in his jacket while Yuuma fumbled to put his wallet away without dropping anything, and they sat down on the curb outside a store with boarded up windows and a crooked FOR SALE sign nailed to the door. Yuuma handed him two of the rice balls and then, with one in each hand, began eating._

_“My grandma makes really good rice balls,” Yuuma said, mouth full. “I eat ‘em to power up for my duels.”_

_“These aren’t bad,” Ryoga said as he ate. The rice was still warm. Yuuma was sitting so close to him that their elbows kept touching, and every time it happened Ryoga was surprised, because it was so strange, people touching him casually, and Yuuma was talking, he realized, and he should probably listen to what he was saying._

_“— and then we can duel. Kotori and Tetsuo aren’t here, they had a club meeting —”_

_Yuuma’s face fell for a moment, and then he was back to smiling, so quickly that Ryoga wondered if he’d imagined it. But the word ‘duel’ reminded him of why he was here, and it wasn’t just to listen to Yuuma talk._

_He wished it was, though. This was comfortable._

_“I wanted to asked you something.”_

_“Okay,” Yuuma said. He waited._

_Ryoga slid an arm over Yuuma’s shoulder, so that he couldn’t bolt for it, and Yuuma leaned against his shoulder, and it was tempting to just say ‘_ never mind’ _, but not tempting enough._

_“You collect Numbers, don’t you?”_

_“I —”_

_“I know you have to take them off duelists,” Ryoga said. “Don’t bother. I want to how you identify the duelists who have them.”_

_Yuuma glanced somewhere above Ryoga’s head. “How do you know about the Numbers?”_

_He looked confused, and sincere, and it was possible that he was lying. But if Yuuma was working with the other Numbers Hunters, he would know about Ryoga already, and Ryoga would have been caught that morning they’d had coffee together. And he hadn’t been. And Yuuma was so…so naive, acting like he and Ryoga were classmates — it was impossible that that was all an act._

_“You have no idea,” Ryoga said flatly. “Of course you — never mind. Do you just wander around the city until you run into a duelist who has one? How do you tell?”_

_“I…” Yuuma said. “They act kinda weird once they have the Numbers. Like my teacher started hacking into the city, and Fuuya thought he was really ESPer Robin.”_

_“The Numbers control them?”_

_He nodded. “Shark, it’s dangerous if you —”_

_“Why are you looking for them?”_

_“They…they belong to someone else! I’m just helping him find them.” Yuuma’s eyes went to that spot over Ryoga’s head again. Ryoga looked up, and there was nothing, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw rainbows reflected onto the pavement again._

Imaginary friend, huh?

_“Who?”_

_“An important person! The Numbers contain his — he just needs them, okay?” Yuuma crossed his arms over his chest. He was pouting, and despite the conversation, his weight was still heavy against Ryoga’s shoulder._

_There was a silence as Ryoga wondered how far he could push before Yuuma fled, and Yuuma stared off into space, brow furrowed, his half-eaten rice ball still in hand._

_“Shark?”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Are you in trouble?”_

More trouble than you could ever imagine. _“No,” Ryoga said._

_Yuuma shoved the last of the rice ball into his mouth, and wiped his hand on his jeans. Then he touched Ryoga’s knee. He looked up again, and nodded, and then spoke, and distracted by the touch Ryoga almost didn’t hear him._

_“We can still duel…” Yuuma said hopefully._

_Yuuma probably had at least two Numbers, if not more. Ryoga could meet his quota right now. He could get Rio what she needed tonight. Yuuma thought of him as a friend; he would never see it coming, and then Ryoga would…_

_He swallowed hard, and remembered that Yuuma had found him and fed him and given him the card that had saved him. Ryoga could defeat him now, but he would have to live with himself afterwards._

He has information. It’s better if I leave him alone for now, _Ryoga lied to himself. If he didn’t collect Yuuma’s Numbers, he could never see him again — he was being watched and eventually someone else would find Yuuma and take him on. Someone like Kaito._

_“It’s better if you don’t get involved with me.”_

_“But—”_

_“You’re not the only one looking for the Numbers. There are others, and if they find out about you, they’ll hurt you. Don’t tell anyone else about them, and don’t go into the city alone at night.” Ryoga sucked in a deep breath. If anyone found out about this conversation, he was sure that he’d be killed._

_“…I don’t wander around,” Yuuma mumbled. “Most of the Numbers have been with people I already knew. Like from school and stuff.”_

_And once again, Ryoga thought, imagining a school full of students and teachers he could track, Yuuma was saving him._

_He stood up. “Thanks for lunch.”_

_“Wait — where are you —”_

_“Goodbye, Yuuma.” Ryoga turned around. He walked away, away from the crowds and the plaza, and left Yuuma sitting on the curb behind him. He didn’t let himself look back; he was sure, if Yuuma tried, Ryoga would be persuaded into something he couldn’t do._

It wasn’t safe to go to Yuuma’s school directly, but most of the students took the train home, so Ryoga had scouted out the stations a stop or two down from the one nearest Heartland Academy and had begun following those who were wearing the white uniform Yuuma had worn. He had seen nothing so far, and he had no way of telling which students Yuuma was close to, so it was slow going.

 _Better than nothing,_ Ryoga thought, as he brushed the loose hair out of Rio’s face. It was cold comfort.

Someone knocked on the door. Ryoga jumped — who could it be?

The nurses never knocked, and the night nurse always gave him at least twenty minutes uninterrupted. It might be a visitor who was lost after hours.

Or it might be someone looking for him. Ryoga glanced around wildly, looking for a hiding space, and saw none. If he were caught here…if it was Kaito, or worse yet, Asaya, he was screwed.

He rolled himself under the bed and tugged on the sheets so that they hung down and touched the floor. The doors whooshed open. Ryoga held his breath.

“And here we have a sleeping beauty…a princess in need…just perfect for the prince’s prize.”

The voice was male and unfamiliar. Ryoga could see the boy’s shoes, brown leather, as he walked close — too close — to Rio’s bed. If he were some kind of pervert, here to do something to Rio, he was dead.

“She’ll do nicely,” the boy said, and this time a dark purple aura flared up around him. Ryoga couldn’t see what he looked like, but he was willing to bet that if he could, there would be the mark of a Numbers on his body somewhere, burning with power.

He waited until the Numbers duelist turned to walk away, and then he edged out from under the bed, not making a sound, and followed him out the door.

The hunt was on.

+++++

“The results are the same, Kaito-sama.”

Kaito didn’t even look at the fourth set of test results. He knew what they would say: Ryoga was a normal human being, with nothing strange in his blood or skin or hair, except that he was too healthy for someone who was homeless. There was no energy signature, no odd foreign bodies, no trace of whatever gave him the power to take Numbers and manipulate Barianite.

He would run genetic tests, too, but he didn’t have the equipment on time, and securing it discreetly would take time. Time that he didn’t have. He needed to hunt.

He reached for the white cube on the lab table. There was a digital display on the front, with four zeroes displayed. Kaito laid his palm on top, and the red numbers flashed: the readings were too high, again, even though Kaito had given into Orbital’s nagging and restrained himself this week to try and bring his body up to par.

He would be able to withstand two duels, and no more, before he was unable to go on. He had no Numbers as of yet and only two days left to find them, and the last five weeks had shown Ryoga to be very capable competition. He’d only failed to meet quota once. He was in good shape, and his powers, whatever they were, let him duel without any strain on his body, and meanwhile Kaito’s heart was dying with every beat, his body eating itself to keep him alive.

It was unfair in the worst way. Kaito refused to believe that anyone deserved the Numbers more than his brother, and yet the universe was against them.

“Kaito-sama, perhaps one more —”

“Run the tracking algorithms. We’re leaving.”

Orbital 7 beeped at him in displeasure, but he transformed and grasped Kaito’s shoulders. The display projected onto Kaito’s left eye showed him the city below, the waves of energy rising and falling superimposed over, and the bright green dots that meant a likely target. There was a seventy percent chance that he had identified them correctly. Kaito, working on his own, had not yet found a way to make the system more accurate than that.

He would have to choose carefully.

+++++

The city was deliciously sinful, full of humans ruled by their flesh, by their lusts, by their disgusting bodies and even more disgusting emotions. The underbelly, masked by bright lights and cheap thrills, people dying and fucking only a few feet away from the amusement park full of stupid naive children — this was paradise, Vector thought, even if the others were too stuffy to appreciate it.

Mizael hated it, of course, but Mizael hated everything. Durbe was uncomfortable, no matter how he tried to play the role of leader and behave as thought he believed the ends justified the means. Alit and Gilag were easily distracted by the pretty thrills of the city, and so they did as they were told. It was all very boring, now that they were done with Tron and all that was left was supervising the humans. Vector was allowed to instill rivalries, but Durbe was so fussy about having any casualties.

He almost missed Nasch and Merag — they were cold, the two of them, and they would have accepted Vector’s plan and appreciated it properly. Oh, Nasch was emotional, but he was loyal in a way that the others weren’t. If Vector offered him a safe, happy Barian world, Nasch would take it even if it dripped with human blood.

He wandered the night among the thugs and whores, looking for something to amuse himself with. The moans of the Barianite addicts as he passed, the duelists with their fists clenched for battle, the Hunters flying overhead…he had masterminded it all, and even now, when he promised that he only meant well, that it was all for the sake of the Barian World, they believed him. They had no idea that Vector had his eyes on a different prize altogether.

And by the time they found out, it would be too late.

+++++

Ryoga was in his room when Kaito came back, and Kaito stood in the doorway and thought long and hard about having Orbital 7 remove him so he could sleep in peace.

He had had to duel three times, in the end, and everything hurt. He was only upright because of the lingering traces of Galaxy-Eye’s power in his veins; after a duel, the rush persisted, as if his dragon were trying to keep him alive. And perhaps it was. There was no proof, but Kaito swore that Galaxy-Eyes could understand him if he made the effort.

The duel had been nearly an hour ago. There were black spots in his vision, getting larger and larger, and if he didn’t lie down he would fall down — and Ryoga was curled up on the pallet, covered in blankets.

Orbital 7 kicked him.

“What the fuck,” Ryoga groused, one hand over his eyes. “What, Kaito?”

Kaito didn’t waste his breath answering, and Orbital ripped the blankets off Ryoga, against his protests, and dragged the pallet out from under him. Kaito knelt down slowly, using both hands to brace himself while he laid down because fast movements made him dizzy, and let Orbital cover him up, like he were Haruto, like he were a child again.

“Be quiet, you useless fish,” Orbital said over Ryoga’s sputtered protests. “Kaito-sama is sleeping.”

“So was I,” Ryoga said, and then he was mercifully silent. Kaito closed his eyes, as the pounding of his heart kept him awake, as the pain washed over him. Sleep was there, so close, and yet it would not come while a vein in his head throbbed and sharp flared in his ribs every time he breathed.

He lay there, trying to focus on Orbital’s familiar whirring. Ryoga’s teeth were chattering; he wasn’t dressed for the cold, even with the dueling clothes Kaito had given him, and Kaito remembered the iciness of his skin from when they’d —

— no, he wouldn’t think about that. It had been a mistake, and he had paid the price for it.

But he was aware of the fact that he had gotten Ryoga into this, that Ryoga was lying there freezing because Kaito had left him that way, that Ryoga, too, was suffering because Kaito had exploited him. It was disgusting, and pointless, and there was no way to justify it.

 _We’re enemies,_ Kaito told himself. _There’s nothing I can do for him now. I need to sleep._

Sleep did not come for a long time, and when it did, he woke again and again, every time Ryoga shifted in a fruitless attempt to keep warm.

+++++

Yuuma waited impatiently for Akari to come out of the bathroom and go to sleep. The afternoon had dragged on and on, as Kotori and the others had ditched him for their club meetings again. They’d had so many meetings lately. Yuuma didn’t even know what club they were in, and every time they said that he should go on ahead, they’d meet up with him later, he wanted to ask: _can I just wait for you? Can I come with you?_

But he remembered the class rep’s taunts, that without Astral and Hope Yuuma was just a loser, and they still stung. He could not shake the suspicion that there were no club meetings and that they were avoiding him, or secretly laughing at him.

He couldn’t bear to have those suspicions confirmed, so instead he went home and practice dueled with Astral and lost every time, and watched ESPer Robin, and did his homework as slowly as possible, just to fill up the hours.

Finally he heard the click of Akari’s bedroom door below, and grinned. It was finally time! He straightened his bowtie in the mirror, smoothed the sleeves of the pink tuxedo jacket, and climbed out the attic window. Tonight he and Astral were going on an investigation.

“These Numbers are incomplete,” Astral had said. “Something is fragmenting them.”

Shark’s warning sounded in his head, but with it was the knowledge that no matter what Shark had said, he was probably in danger, and going into the city at night meant they might meet again. After their brief lunch, Yuuma hadn’t seen him around, even though he’d gone back to the cafe across from the hospital to look. He had so many questions — who was after Astral and the Numbers? What was Shark doing? Where did he live and why had he come to warn Yuuma at all?

 _Because we’re friends,_ Yuuma thought firmly. _That’s why I have to find out, in case he is in trouble._

Downtown Heartland was bright at all hours, and Yuuma stepped off the train in a station full of well-dressed partiers and families with amusement park passes on lanyards around their necks. The billboards sparkled as they cycled through ads, the people on the roller coaster screamed as the car shot downhill, and every store and club and bar had their name in neon lights above their door.

Yuuma hadn’t been in the city at night for a long time. He and Akari had made day trips together, but the hadn’t come to the amusement park at night since his parents disappeared. He stood there and watched the citizens for a few moments, remembering — Kazuma picking him and setting him on his shoulders, teaching him how to win at carnival games and failing, Mirai stepping in and winning the grand prize in one shot — and sighed.

“I sense nothing here.”

Yuuma produced a folded sheet of paper from his jacket pocket. “The class rep and Tokunosuke did some digging. There’s a dueling club around here somewhere.”

He’d seen dueling clubs in movies, but never in real life. They were supposed to be swanky, with waiters in black waistcoats and trays of champagne, and red velvet everywhere. Yuuma had worn his best clothes in anticipation; it was like being a secret agent, he thought, and he grinned as he examined the class rep’s directions.

Luckily, Takashi had neat handwriting.

“This is the place…?”

It was just a wooden building, ramshackle and crooked, the tin roof rusted over. The door was bolted shut from outside, and there was no one around. The streets were empty, the stores were closed, the apartment complexes had broken windows, and Yuuma looked at it all and frowned at the directions.

“It does not look as you described.”

“Takashi and Tokunosuke said they were sure, though.”

“It may be dangerous.”

Everyone kept saying that to him. But even if things were dangerous, that didn’t mean they didn’t have to be done. Astral needed his memories, and they had to find out who was looking for the Numbers, and if they were in danger, Yuuma was tired of hearing about it. He wanted to see for himself what the danger was.

He approached the building and tried lifting the bar. It wasn’t too heavy, and he got it up enough to turn the knob and pull the door open.

The room inside was packed with people. Dirty, sweaty people, all of them taller and bulkier than he was, all of them wearing duel disks that looked like they’d seen better days, and all of them looking right at him.

“…hi.”

“Run back to Mommy, kid,” one of the ones nearest the door growled. He made a fist and punched his open palm. “Or do you wanna go?”

Yuuma gulped. He looked around, and noticed a few of the duelists were reaching for iron pipes, and empty glasses, and decided that this was not the kind of danger he wanted to be acquainted with.

He fled.

Twenty minutes of frantic running later, he was well away from the illegal dueling bar…and also from anything familiar. He was in a business district, and he was lost. His chest ached from sprinting, and he stopped, sat down on a bench, and breathed.

“That was a dueling club?”

“That was an underground one. You can get arrested for going to one.” Yuuma buried his face in his hands. “Man, that was close! I can’t believe Tokunosuke did that to us.”

“Why would it be illegal to duel?”

“They use shock collars and stuff.” Yuuma rubbed his neck. He’d seen _Duel Club_ too many times when he was younger; it was a favorite of his father’s, and Yuuma had always ended up sneaking downstairs to watch it with him, even though it gave him nightmares.

He had never understood the appeal of the underground circuit. Duels weren’t for hurting people.

 _Shark couldn’t mixed up in that kind of thing, could he?_ Yuuma bit his lip.

“We are lost. And we have discovered nothing.”

“We’ll figure it out!” Yuuma said, too loudly. He clutched at the key determinedly. “Whatever happens, I will definitely make sure you get back all your memories.”

Astral smiled very slightly, and Yuuma nodded at him. They were going to kattobingu their way to the answers, he thought, no matter what. After all, Astral was depending on him.

But right now they were lost, and Yuuma had no idea where he was going. He glanced up at the sky, wishing it was dark enough that he could navigate by the stars, and decided there was no point in waiting around. He picked a random direction and started walking.

All of the office buildings looked the same to him, and all the street names were just numbers. The city was on a grid system, he remembered Kotori explaining to him (on a class system that had ended up with Yuuma dueling small children in the park while the class toured a factory) but Yuuma had never been any good at geometry. He walked past the walls of tinted glass, past the O-bots bustling about, past the dumpster in the gaps between buildings —

A hand grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him off the street.

“What the—”

“Give it to me,” she whispered, and she crawled over Yuuma’s body before he could get up off the asphalt and dug long nails into his throat. She had grey hair and wild eyes and was wearing an outfit that must have been fancy before, but was filthy now, torn and strained, the lace all unraveled. “Give it to me!”

Yuuma shoved her off, and she snarled and raked her nails across his face. It stung.

“Yuuma, you must get away from her,” Astral said. But Yuuma couldn’t, paralyzed by the desperation in her voice.

“You have to have it,” she said. “I…I need it…”

She was trembling. Now that she wasn’t attacking him, and was just sitting there, Yuuma could look at her properly. There was something familiar about her — she had cat-like points on either side of her head, and she was wearing a broken duel disk on her left arm that he’d seen before. Her eyes were bloodshot, with dark circles underneath, and when she opened her mouth he saw that her teeth were tinged pink.

“Are you okay?”

“Give your Barianite,” she said. “Please.”

“I don’t know what that is —OW!

“Yuuma!” Astral cried, but there was nothing he could do.

Yuuma fell backwards as she lunged at him again. Her nails left bloody scratches in his neck, and her grip was strong, so strong it was making it hard to breathe. He gasped for air, struggling to get her off him so he could run, but she kept squeezing and squeezing and —

Then she stopped. She scooted backwards, away from him, and sat against the wall.

Her shoulders shook with the sound of her sobs. Yuuma wiped at his neck with his sleeve, wincing as the fabric scraped the open cuts, and then sat against the wall beside her. He gently touched her shoulder.

There was a jolt through his arm, like static from a woolen sweater, and he saw pink sparks jump and die in the air around his hand. Yuuma looked up at Astral, who was floating near him with a severe expression, for an answer, but Astral shook his head.

Hesitantly, Yuuma put his hand back on her shoulder. The shock ran through his again, and it wasn’t painful, really, just weird. It was as if something was flowing through him into her where they touched. The girl drooped after a minute or two. Her breathing evened out, and when she began to snore, Yuuma realized that she was fast asleep.

He nudged her to wake her, and she toppled over sideways. Yuuma scrambled to catch her, and there weren’t sparks this time but a bright flash of pink light that nearly blinded him. As he blinked, spots floating in front of his eyes, Astral spoke.

“Yuuma, look at her.”

Yuuma did.

“Cathy?” She was in his class, he remembered — she and Kotori had made him come to the mall with them once. Her dress was mended and clean, and the dirt on her face was gone, and the blood that had been on the tips of her nails was gone, replaced by white nail polish.

“Meow,” she mumbled in her sleep.

“You healed her.” Astral swooped down to examine Cathy closely. “You did not tell me you had this power.”

“Me?” Yuuma looked down at his hands. They looked the same to him as ever. “I didn’t know I had any powers.”

“Then this is another mystery we must solve,” Astral said. “You were very kind to her.”

“She seemed kind of freaked out.”

“You are very kind to everyone. It is admirable.”

Yuuma rubbed the back of his neck. His face was warm. There was Astral embarrassing him again, he thought.

“Astral?” He picked Cathy up. She was heavier than she looked, but Yuuma couldn’t leave her on the ground by herself. He staggered out of the alley and into the street and began walking. “What’s Barianite?”

“I do not remember,” Astral said. “But the name is…familiar to me. I have heard it before.”

After that, Yuuma was too out of breath to talk. It took too long to reach somewhere he knew, and to figure out what train he needed to get onto to reach his house. The sun was beginning to color the horizon as he used the last of his farecard to stumble out onto the street.

Cathy slept soundly the whole time, even when Yuuma had to lay her down so he could open the front door, even when he stubbed his toe taking her to the spare bedroom and cried out, even when he pulled off her shoes and threw the blanket over her before collapsing onto the floor.

He was exhausted, and the creeping horror of there being school in the morning was at the back of his mind.

And they still hadn’t found out anything, after all that, and he was going to grounded for the foreseeable future and their investigation would have to be on hold. I didn’t even get to see Shark, Yuuma thought, as he made his way to the door, bleary-eyed and unbalanced.

When he woke up, he was lying on the floor of the corridor. He was still in his wrinkled tuxedo.

And the bedroom door was open. Yuuma looked inside; Cathy was gone.

“Where did she —”

“She went home,” Astral said form behind him. Yuuma jumped.

“Astral!”

“She could see me.” Astral flipped himself upside down; he did this when he was pleased sometimes, Yuuma had noticed, and he sat down on the bed to listen.

“She could see you?”

“She told me about the Barianite,” Astral said, and at that moment Yuuma’s alarm went off upstairs. Yuuma froze, and then he shook his head.

“Hurry up and tell me before Akari finds us,” he whispered, and Astral began.

When Akari found him, she took one look at him and told him to go back to bed. You’re white as a ghost, she said. She checked him fro a fever — there was none — and tucked him in.

Yuuma let her. He lay there, wanting desperately to sleep, but his mind was full of terrible images, real and imagined, and he could not.


	5. Exchange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The things that you need to do and the things that make you feel good are not always the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mentions of prostitution and brief violence. Drug addiction.

“Photon Stream of Destruction!”

Light poured from Galaxy-Eyes’ jaws. The brightness of its attack made night into day, made the dull grey of the city blue, and Kaito could see the its reflection in the terrified eyes of his opponent. The power was electric in his veins; Kaito tasted sparks on his tongue as the duel ended and the Numbers duelist collapsed. He plunged his ghostly hand into their chests, rummaging around for the soul, and took it.

And then Galaxy-Eyes was gone and Heartland was Heartland again — dark and cold and full of misery. Kaito collected the Numbers, and walked away, leaving the comatose duelist behind. Their hair had whitened and there were lines around their eyes now; he’d learn their name tomorrow in the paper when the media covered another ‘mysterious attack’ on the citizenry.

He could fly back to base, but it was early yet; Haruto was still with the doctor and Kaito had no desire to visit the lab, where the meter marked the way his life was slipping away, or headquarters, where the Arclights might be. He walked without any destination in mind, and his feet carried him into a more populated part of the city. People were going in and out of shops with bags full of purchases; it seemed like another world, these parts of the city where life proceeded without any change, everyone unaware that around them there were the dying and the addicted, the monsters in human form, waiting to strike.

Sometimes Kaito could hardly believe that there had been a time he had _enjoyed_ dueling.

There was a sweet shop around here, he remembered, that Haruto had liked. He had collected his Numbers for the week; he would buy some caramels for his brother, and go see him. Even a Haruto so altered by disease could soothe him, could make him feel better, if only for a little while.

His heart stuttered. Kaito froze, and put a hand up to his aching chest, wondering if —

And then it stopped. There was no beat beneath his palm, no flutter in his chest, just burning pain that radiated slowly through every muscle, with every breath. His knees hit the ground as he gasped for air, tugging feebly at the collar of his coat, but his body refused to obey. His vision went black, and Kaito thought that it was the end then. This had to be death; there was nothing else that could hurt this much.

Something in his chest moved, slowly, and then the blood was pounding in his ears as his heart frantically tried to push blood into ischemic tissue. Kaito regained control of his limbs agonizingly, every movement costing him, every second he strained repaid in pain. He couldn’t stand; he had to crawl to what seemed to his dulled senses like a safe place, and then he curled up, and listened to his heart pound, and hoped that it would keep beating until Orbital 7 found him.

+++++

The tag duelists weren’t great at dueling, but as it turned out, they were good at knife fights.

Orbital 7 was useless at dueling, too, which was why Ryoga had been forced to step in to rescue him, lest he die of secondhand embarrassment (it had nothing to do with Kaito, cold and white and alarmingly still against the alley wall between trash cans and the fact that the tag duelists were after the bounty on his head), but he was a robot, so knives weren’t an issue for him.

Ryoga, on the other hand, couldn’t afford to get stabbed. He shoved his green-haired, greasy opponent away, narrowly avoiding the sharp edge of his blade against his throat, but the other guy closed in on him. They took turns slicing at him, trying to get him against the wall where’d they gut him together, and Ryoga tried and tried again to get between them.

Out in the open, with some room, he’d take down them both. Against the wall he would die.

“Kaito-sama!” Orbital was shielding Kaito with his metal body, screeching obnoxiously — no one was even trying to kill him — and Ryoga ignored him. He ducked, and kicked, and green haired slasher stumbled.

Ryoga headbutted him in the face hard enough the world spun. Then he got hold of the knife.

They fled.

He shoved it into his pocket after wiping off the blood and turned back to face Kaito. Orbital was prodding him with wires, green numbers flashing across the glass of his cameras. He looked worried, as much as a robot could.

Ryoga thought of the way Orbital 7 had collapsed under pressure earlier, making stupid mistakes on the field, even though his brain was a computer and he should have been able to calculate the way to victory. Robots weren’t supposed to be able to make mistakes, or have feelings.

“I have to get Kaito-sama to safety.” Orbital scooped Kaito up. He glared at Ryoga. “You were useful today, fish, so I’m letting you live.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Excuse me?”

Ryoga shook his head. Word would spread he was involved with Kaito. He was going to be targeted by anyone hunting the bounty on Kaito’s head, which meant he needed to get off the street for a little bit to regroup, and Kaito’s safehouse would be better than his own.

He couldn’t even go spy on Yuuma now. _Stupid Kaito._

“I can tell the bounty hunters how to track him down.”

Orbital 7 beeped angrily. But he nodded.

They started walking east, taking deserted pathways and cutting through buildings and old subway tunnels.

“Kaito-sama will be furious if I show you this,” Orbital said quietly as he guided Ryoga towards the bay.

“Not if he’s dead.”

Heartland sat right on the shore, and the shipping district was massive. They passed by the cargo storage centers and the long boardwalk to a group of low, square steel buildings.

Orbital stopped outside the heavy doors and unceremoniously shoved Kaito into Ryoga’s arms. Then he set to work unlocking them.

Kaito’s head lolled against Ryoga’s arm while Orbital fiddled with the lock on the door. The whole time they were walking, he had not stirred, and Ryoga wasn’t joking when he had said that Kaito looked like he might die. It was unnerving him.

The doors clicked open.

“Put him on the table,” Orbital snapped as he slammed the doors shut behind them.

The table in question looked like it had come out of a morgue, with a white sheet draped over the shiny surface. Ryoga settled Kaito on it and check him for a pulse — it was weak and slow — before being pushed aside by Orbital as he stripped off Kaito’s shirt and jacket and stuck all the sensors back onto him. Kaito had two parallel scars on his belly, and he was skinnier without the clothes to hide the way his ribs were starting to show. The monitors that Orbital switched on showed too many things for Ryoga to keep track of — he recognized some of it from the hospital, from Rio, and he could tell that Kaito’s heart was beating weakly, and that his blood pressure was too low, and his temperature was dropping.

He winced as Orbital slid an IV into the crook of Kaito’s arm. A few drops of blood spurted out around the needle. Ryoga covered the inside of his own elbow in sympathy and looked elsewhere.

This was a lab, he thought. Banks of computers and screens, unfamiliar equipment on the counters — glass tubes of fluid and bottles marked with skulls and plastic plates with tiny little wells — and boxes of latex gloves and rolls of wire everywhere. It made sense that Kaito, who was rolling in tech, would have his own lab. It explained where he slept when he wasn’t at headquarters, and remembered how that had gone — he’d taken to sleeping in Rikuo’s hideout while he was out again because it was at least warm — made Ryoga regret having helped out already.

No, Ryoga thought, that was a lie. It was hard to hold a grudge against Kaito when he was practically on his deathbed. Pity kept creeping into his resentment, diluting it, leaving him confused.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“A useless fish like you wouldn’t understand! For Haruto’s sake, Kaito-sama has — Kaito-sama has —”

“Orbital 7, be silent.”

Kaito’s voice was a croak. He lifted one trembling hand to his face and dislodged the oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. The sound of his breathing was loud; neither Ryoga nor Orbital spoke while Kaito gasped and tried to sit up before giving up and lying back. He turned his head and looked at one of the monitors. It showed a four-digit number in bright red, and it must have been important, because Kaito looked at it for a long time.

“You’re too soft-hearted.”

“You’re welcome, you piece of shit,” Ryoga said. “I saved your ass back there, you could at least pretend to care.”

“If you’re waiting for me to thank you,” Kaito said, smirking, “you’re going to be disappointed.”

The urge to wipe that smirk off Kaito’s face overwhelmed him. Ryoga wanted to hurt him, just to remind himself that he still could hurt people if he wanted, and he said the first thing that came to mind.

“Who’s Haruto?”

“No one,” Kaito said, too quickly.

Ryoga walked closer to the table where Kaito was lying. He leaned against it, arms folded.

“Must be important.”

“Don’t ask questions about things you couldn’t possibly understand,” Kaito said, and he tried to smirk again, but Ryoga had faked it too many times to be fooled by his attempt. He could see that Kaito was restraining himself, that he had stumbled into something painful.

It would be kind to leave it alone, Ryoga thought, but then again, Kaito didn’t like soft? Fine, he wouldn’t be soft. Kaito hadn’t hesitated to hurt him.

“Does Tron know about your secret lab?” Ryoga glanced deliberately around. “About you?”

“You don’t have the guts.”

“Selling out other people is easier than selling myself.” Ryoga shrugged. “Not that you would know.”

Orbital 7 started to speak, indignantly, but Kaito cut him off.

“You’d be surprised.” He tried to sit up again, and this time Orbital helped him and pushed a pile of pillows behind him for him to lean on. The heart monitor spiked ominously while he struggled to hold himself upright, and it wasn’t until Kaito slumped against the pillows that it slowed.

“Haruto is my younger brother. He’s sick. The Barians have promised that as long as I hunt the Numbers for them, they will keep him alive.”

Kaito’s voice was flat. He had given nothing away with those three sentences, and yet Ryoga knew that he was in pain, because he could remember the way Rio had improved when she had first touched Barianite and how Ryoga lived sometimes only on the knowledge that he could make her better, and on nothing else.

Imagining Kaito with a sickly little boy who was dependent on him for survival…it was too much like looking into a mirror for Ryoga’s taste.

_“You’re so weak, Ryoga,”_ Rio’s voice sounded in his head. She was challenging him, asking him what he was was going to do about it; this discomfort that always came when he realized he needed to do something terrible and could not. His gaze drifted to Kaito’s deck case, which was belted at his side still.

There were probably Numbers in there. Ryoga was still one short, and this would be the easiest way — Kaito was in no position to duel him to stop him — and then he’d have met his quota without problems. And it would slow Kaito down, maybe even get rid of him.

_I should do it,_ Ryoga thought, but he still had the scar on his right shoulder, where he had bled after pushing Rio out of the way, and he couldn’t make his hands move.

“Go ahead,” Kaito said. “A substandard duelist like you can’t manage any other way.”

“Substandard?” Ryoga’s face flushed with anger. “You — ”

He sucked in a breath harshly and then went on, “I don’t need to lower myself to stealing from someone as pathetic as you.”

_First Yuuma, and now Kaito,_ the Rio in his head said scornfully. _What are you doing, Ryoga?_

Orbital 7 was still fussing over Kaito, and Kaito tapped him sharply on the head. “Orbital. Water.” The robot rolled off to obey, and Kaito slid down the table so that his head alone was resting against the pillows. He took the glass of water offered and downed it, and then he closed his eyes.

Ryoga watched as Orbital covered Kaito with a sheet and then began bustling around the lab, turning things on and typing furiously and talking to himself. He paid Ryoga no attention as he worked, and the minutes ticked by. He wanted to say something, but that would have meant admitting that he was bothered by the fact that he was being ignored.

Half an hour passed before Kaito moved. He opened his eyes, noticed Ryoga, and spoke.

“Fine. I’ll tell you something, since you helped me.”

Ryoga had to bite his tongue.

“There are three other Numbers Hunters working for Tron. You should watch out for them.”

He waited, but Kaito said nothing else, and he closed his eyes again, like speaking had been a great effort. Ryoga ground his teeth in indignation.

“That’s it? How do I know you didn’t just make that up to fuck with me?”

“You don’t.” Kaito shrugged one shoulder. “But one of them is Thomas Arclight, so I’d be careful. Didn’t you already lose to him once?”

IV was a Hunter. IV was working for the Barians, too. IV was somewhere in this city, and Ryoga had a way to find him.

He was shaking, he realized, rage white hot in his veins, and it did not matter that Kaito was a condescending piece of shit, it did not matter that he needed to hunt himself, it did not matter that Kaito was toying with him. Nothing mattered but blood, IV’s blood, IV burning the way Rio had burned —

It wasn’t until he was pushing on the sealed doors to the lab that Ryoga realized he had started to walk, his brain divorced entirely from his body.

“Let me out,” he said.

“They’ll kill you.”

“Let me out,” Ryoga repeated. Kaito sounded scared, but his voice seemed to be coming from miles away. “I’m going to destroy him.”

There was a silence, and then a whir and a click. The doors opened.

+++++

Yuuma had been wrong. Cathy wasn’t completely freed from the Barianite.

She was cleaner, and had put back on the weight she’d lost, and she no longer jumped or hissed or flinched. But her eyes were terrible. They were lost. They were haunted.

She came to see him after school, wearing the fancy lace dress and carrying a small black cat. She had brought his homework.

“Hi,” he said.

“Can you do what you did to me to other people?”

Yuuma had hoped for some lead in to the inevitable question. He’d been thinking about this, once the shock had worn off — someone was running a magical drug ring for duelists in the middle of Heartland City, and somehow the Numbers were involved — and he’d realized there was only one answer.

“I can try.”

He got dressed, and he followed her out the window and to her house.

_They give the drugs to the best duelists they can find underground. Then they let lower and lower quality stones trickle down, as the winners sell off their winnings. But once you’ve had one taste, you have to have another one. And before you know it, you’re dueling in a cage, like an animal, and you can’t win. But you can’t stop, either._

_There are people dying in Heartland City. People turning up in comas. No one else has figured out it’s all connected, but the cats told me about it. I just wanted to take a look, to see what was happening, but they told me they’d improve my skills and —_

“This may be very dangerous, Yuuma,” Astral murmured. Yuuma jumped; he hadn’t even seen him appear.

“You always say that.”

“Because it is true. I don’t remember everything about our foes, but the fact is that they have infiltrated this city and they have amassed a great deal of power. You are growing, Yuuma, but I have determined through observation that you are relatively helpless.”

“Hey!”

“You lack both money and influence — both of which our enemy must have.”

“The drug dealers have tons of cash. They own a bunch of expensive dueling clubs.” Cathy said.

“But why? Why are they doing this?”

Yuuma thought that he had understood suffering before. His parents were gone. He’d been a loser for a long time (perhaps, he still was). His family had had to struggle to survive, and Yuuma had been sad before, and other people had hurt him.

But this was beyond his understanding. These enemies, whoever they were, were destroying people with their drugs. They were ruining people’s lives, randomly, just to get what they wanted.

It was scary.

Cathy hadn’t answered his question. Instead she stopped outside the gate of her house and pointed. “A bunch of addicts have been squatting in my house.”

He didn’t really want to go inside. He didn’t feel brave. But inside, those people, whoever they were, had had their lives taken from them, and Yuuma had been chosen by the Key and Astral and maybe his father to fight whatever hurt them.

He couldn’t run away.

“Okay,” Yuuma said. He tightened his belt. “You wait here, and Astral and I will take care of it.”

The front door of the house was open, and it was dark inside. There were broken windows and there was creeping moss. Yuuma thought he heard a scream.

Astral lit the way before him, and they went inside.

+++++

Ryoga couldn’t find Yuuma.

Not that he’d looked very hard. The thought of Yuuma getting set on fire the way his sister had didn’t really appeal to him. But Yuuma was the easiest way to find a Numbers, and Numbers were where IV would be. So Ryoga started trawling the clubs instead, and he got smacked around by bouncers and increasingly frustrated when he turned up nothing.

Every bruise was like a brand that announced in black ink that IV was still alive.

He saved the Burnt Heart for last, since he knew Droite and Gauche worked out of there, and it was closed when he arrived. He stared at the barred doors and the dimmed lights in silent fury. Was IV behind that door, drinking champagne with his fellow hunters and laughing about his victories?

When it swung open he only had a second to hide.

A little boy with blue hair huffed and puffed as he pushed the club door open; it was heavy, and he only managed to crack it open enough to wiggle out. He was a skinny kid, clean and well-dressed, looking left and right and behind him like he was being pursued.

A child had no business being in the Burnt Heart. There were child prodigy duelists, of course, but Ryoga had assumed that no one was low enough to target them with Barianite. Clearly he had been wrong.

He started across the street to intercept the kid. Maybe he knew something. Maybe he had a family who could protect them. The kid didn’t look like he’d been turned out on the street, but then, looks could be deceiving — and Ryoga sucked in a deep breath as he approached, aware of the old hurt that colored his perceptions.

“Hey,” Ryoga said, and the kid looked up, and there was a yell from the direction of the club.

“Haruto! Get back here!”

It was Gauche, the one who’d cut into his face. Ryoga grabbed Haruto up, and there was nowhere to run, so he knocked open a trash can and threw the kid in. Then he slammed the lid on top and hoped the kid wouldn’t scream.

_Isn’t Haruto Kaito’s brother’s name?_

Ryoga was almost grateful when Gauche grabbed him by the collar, because it distracted him from the sudden sense of impending doom.

“Where’s the kid?”

“Let go of me, you sick freak!”

“Dammit, Ryoga, if you’re hiding him,” Gauche began.

Ryoga just looked at him with all the disgust he could manage. “You keep kids tied up in the basement like you kept me tied up? Don’t fucking touch me.”

“It’s not like —” Gauche sighed. He gestured to Droite, who pointed down the street. He dropped Ryoga onto the pavement. “Just get going.”

Ryoga did, but as soon as Gauche and Droite were out of sight, he doubled back. He opened the trash can.

Wide yellow eyes looked back at him. Haruto scrutinized him.

“I’m looking for Nii-san.”

“Lucky for you, I know where to find him,” Ryoga said.

_You could turn the kid in, get some info out of Droite and Gauche,_ a voice in his head whispered. _Find IV that way._

_I could,_ Ryoga thought, _but then I’d have to kill myself for being the worst brother off all time._

Like hell was he just leaving some little kid on his own in the street. Kaito was an asshole, but brotherhood was more important than revenge.

“Come on,” he said, and he picked Haruto up out of the trash. There was a motorcycle parked down the street, left unguarded, and he tried to remember how to hotwire it, and if it was the kind with space for a spare helmet in the back. “Let’s go see your brother.”

“Okay,” Haruto said. He was a weirdly calm little kid, but he wasn’t screaming or crying, so Ryoga put him on the back of the bike and got to work.

+++++

There was a warm body against his.

Kaito could smell the flowery perfume. Mother was here, and soon there would be breakfast. Maybe a trip to the park, and Dad had said Kaito could have some new screwdrivers; he could finish the robot prototype for Mother, and she could do the welding, and —

Orbital 7 squawked. The present returned, and so did the pain. He ached. There was an oxygen tube in his nose. He was in the lab.

But there _was_ something warm against him. That hadn’t been a dream.

He moved his head and looked down — there was a blanket laid over him, carefully tucked in around his body — to see Haruto against his shoulder, fast asleep. Too thin, Kaito thought, but more color in his face than usual.

_How did you get in here,_ Kaito almost said.

“Nii-san?”

_I must have woken him up when I moved._ “Haruto.”

“They said you were sick.” His brother patted his chest. “Is that why you won’t visit me anymore?”

“I’m sorry, Haruto.” Kaito said hoarsely. He wanted to sound strong. It would give Haruto confidence. But his voice wavered.

“That’s okay. Dad says I’m sick too.”

“You’re going to get better.”

“I need more screams,” Haruto stopped mid-sentence to yawn. “Sorry I couldn’t find any caramel.”

Kaito did not cry. He wouldn’t allow himself that. But he wanted to.

“I’ll buy you some.” He already felt tired again. The drugs were working, he could tell that much, but not fast enough. How could he protect Haruto like this? “Soon.”

“Okay.” Haruto nodded solemnly. He rolled over and closed his eyes again; within minutes, his breathing evened out. He was asleep.

Kaito held onto him.

Haruto’s treatment was supposed to be today. He looked well enough, so he must have gotten it, but that didn’t explain why he was outside the tower. It was unsafe, both for his brother and for everyone around him. Haruto’s abilities could be…erratic.

_He doesn’t mean it,_ Kaito thought fiercely. The things his father had said when he’d confined Haruto to his room, calling Haruto out of control, as though he weren’t a sick child whose mother was gone and whose father had abandoned him to chase after his dreams of another world. _Kaito_ was not afraid that Haruto would ever hurt him.

But if he’d escaped the Tower, something bad might have happened. What would Faker do? Lock him up somewhere more secure? Keep him drugged or in a coma?

Hurt him?

_No._

Kaito needed to know what had happened. “Orbital 7.”

“K-Kaito-sa-sama…” The robot stuttered awake, cameras flashing as he booted up from his charging station. “Dueling capacity: fifteen percent. Maximum duel time: ten minutes. Tracking algorithm running.”

“Why is my brother here, Orbital?”

Orbital didn’t immediately answer. He wheeled back and forth nervously. “…ah…I don’t know…”

“You don’t know.” Kaito repeated. “Have you forgotten why I created you, Orbital?”

“He came in while I was charging!” Orbital protested. “I didn’t know he had left the Tower until Droite-sama called!”

“What?”

“Ah, it seems Heartland was borrowing Haruto-sama and —”

“Borrowing him?” Kaito spat. He gritted his teeth. Heartland had started out as a common criminal with no talents beyond a silver tongue and an oily manner, and even though it was Faker who’d elevated him, he had no loyalty and no conscience at all. He was scum. And he was not supposed to have the authority to borrow Haruto, as if Haruto were a thing.

Kaito didn’t answer to Heartland personally, so he wasn’t afraid of him. They would have words.

And Heartland didn’t have access to the Tower — so how had he even —

“Those two from the Burnt Heart were chasing him around.”

Kaito’s head snapped up towards the lab doors. They had opened noiselessly, and Ryoga had come inside. He had bruises on his neck, and wasn’t wearing a shirt; instead he was carrying it along with his duel disk and deck in his arms. He was wearing a motorcycle helmet.

He looked worn out.

“Droite and Gauche,” Kaito said. He had trusted them.

_And now I can’t trust anyone._

“Here.” Ryoga tossed a folded sheet of paper into Kaito’s lap.

Kaito picked it up and unfolded it slowly — his hands shook still — and read it: three names, all vaguely familiar, and the name of a subpar underground dueling gang and a date and time.

“What’s this?”

“They have Numbers.” Ryoga shrugged. “You’re under quota. You can pick them up there, it’ll cover you for a couple weeks. They’re not strong.”

“And you?”

“I’m not the one stuck in bed with a needle in his arm.” Ryoga snapped. He was playing with the hem of his jacket, and he was breathing hard, even though he was just standing there.

Kaito wondered how he’d gotten the names.

“You really are soft.”

“Tch! Don’t misunderstand. I don’t care if you live or die, but it’s not like I want IV and the other two to win, either.” Ryoga hesitated. “Besides — your brother. If you die, who’s going to look after him?”

It was as if he’d been punched in the stomach. Kaito wanted to snap at him, to say he didn’t need anyone’s help or anyone’s pity, but he was so grateful he felt sick. This was two week’s more of Haruto’s life Ryoga was handing him.

He could say nothing. All he could do was run the calculations — ten minutes of dueling, three opponents — and hope that Galaxy-Eyes would not fail him now.

Ryoga awkwardly put his duel disk back on. He was favoring the arm he was strapping it to, and when his sleeve rode up Kaito saw dried blood. He stuck his deck back on his belt and picked up a plastic keycard Kaito recognized as his emergency lab key.

Haruto must have given it to him; it was password sealed with a code only his brother would know. Which meant Ryoga had brought him here.

He had said he was going to kill IV. He had said that with such vehemence that Kaito had let him, rather than do the smart thing and restrain his stupidity. At the time, Kaito had thought, if Ryoga was going to let his ego get the best of him, it was better to let him go after IV and take the beating then to wait until they met officially and risk getting him killed by Tron.

But Ryoga cared so much about Haruto, a stranger. There was something there, Kaito thought, something he was missing in his pain and his exhaustion.

He should investigate. Look at Ryoga’s file. Try to figure him out, figure out how to use him.

Instead Kaito asked.

“Why?”

“I’m not so fucked up I’d let them hurt a little kid.”

“Why do you hate IV?”

Ryoga stopped, his hand on the door. He turned back to look at Kaito.

“…he’s the one who put my sister in a coma.”

Haruto stirred. Kaito realized he had grabbed onto him.

“He set her on fire,” Ryoga said, and his expression was tortured.

_And you thought I was involved, so you hunted me down. And you sold yourself to me. And it doesn’t even bother you._

_How foolish. You’re showing me your weak point._

Kaito’s Numbers were in his deck, on his belt, on the lab bench where Orbital had moved them. Ryoga could have taken them while he slept. But Kaito was dead certain they would still be there, when he looked.

“IV hunts with his two brothers. Taking on all three of them once is pointless.” Kaito said. “But if you want to separate them, outhunt them. They’ll split up if they’re desperate.”

Ryoga nodded. He opened the door, and walked out; the sun was coming up outside. Kaito saw a flash of orange in the sky before the doors closed.

He thought of the room they shared in headquarters. Suddenly it was important that Ryoga return there safely.

“Kaito-sama?”

“Get me the next dose,” Kaito said. “Then take Haruto home. Tomorrow we hunt.”

+++++

When Yuuma finished healing the third man, the weird warm power moving from his body into Yuuma’s, making his bones buzz and his head spin, the man sat up and rubbed at his eyes. He looked a thousand times better, and Yuuma felt a thousand times worse.

He smiled weakly at the man. “Hi,” he said. “Are you okay?”

The man spat on him.

A gob of spittle rolled down Yuuma’s face as the man stood up and brushed himself off.

“Fucking kids,” he grumbled. “Next time I’ll win.”

“Wait,” Yuuma said. “Don’t —”

But the man had already walked out the front door. He was setting his duel disk as he went. Yuuma wiped at his face with hands that were numb and clumsy, and then the room tilted and he had to lean back against the wall.

The first man had rolled over and gone back to sleep, and Cathy had ushered him into a cab outside with the help of her cats. The second one had ranted under his breath about how his wife was going to nag him all night for coming home late, the dumb bitch, and had left on his own.

It was not going well. It had taken well into the evening just to do these three. Healing them was much harder than healing Cathy had been. And they woke up angry, and now the third man was going right back to street dueling, and he might just get addicted all over again. So Yuuma was doing, in the end, absolutely nothing for him.

There were maybe seven or eight more people in the house. They were dirty and frightening and probably would also swear at him and swat at him and spit on him.

Did he really want to help them?

“It’s not working, Astral.”

“Even though they don’t feel the need for the Barianite anymore, they still want it.” Cathy shrugged. She stayed near the door or in front of an open window at all times, always surrounded by a cat or five. “Just get them out of my house.”

“But…I’m hardly even helping them.”

“They’re squatting in here and I don’t have anywhere else to live, Yuuma, please.”

“I will.” Yuuma made himself take a deep breath. “Just…need to take…a break…”

The last word came out slurred. Yuuma blinked in the gloom — it was getting darker and darker — and then the sun was shining orange and huge through the huge bay window.

Cathy and Astral peered at him.

“Wha?”

“You blacked out.”

“Oh,” Yuuma said. He felt dizzy still, but he did feel a little better. But if the sun was coming up, he’d been out for a while. Akari was going to be furious.

“Perhaps you should stop, Yuuma,” Astral said softly.

Cathy nodded. But she looked like maybe she’d been crying. She didn’t have parents, did she? She lived here alone, and her house was full of strangers.

“I can do it.”

He was not sure if he could. But he stood up, and put a hand on the wall, and staggered to addict number four, a woman.

She left without a fuss, disorientated and pacified by Cathy’s offer of cab fare. And so Yuuma did the fifth one, and he screamed and he and Cathy had to lock themselves in a bathroom until he left. Six and seven were women, partners who looked at each other and blinked for several minutes before they picked up their disks, whispered about ‘the club’ and ‘good chance of winning’ before they went.

Eight rubbed at his eyes. Then he looked at Yuuma, and whispered a quiet thanks. Cathy gave him directions to the nearest subway station.

Yuuma’s vision kept going dark, and there was no part of him that did not hurt, but Cathy half-carried him to the last room in the house, where nine and ten, a couple that lay intertwined on a pile of newspaper on the floor, were sleeping.

When they woke they swore revenge on each other, but then they were gone, and Yuuma was falling, and someone was pushing him into a car and telling him they would call his sister.

“But,” he’d said. No one answered, or maybe by then there was nothing in him left to process the answer.

He woke up at home.

Ten. Ten people who had been altered by Barianite, so altered they were unrecognizable when Yuuma was done with them — beauty emerged from twisted sunken features, uniforms knitted themselves back together where the fabric had unraveled, arms dotted with track marks became smooth again — and maybe they still wanted the Barianite, but they weren’t destroyed by it anymore. Maybe they would make better choices. Maybe they wouldn’t.

_But I did everything I could,_ Yuuma thought. _At least Cathy can live there now._

There was an envelope sitting on his bedside table. Yuuma read it by the afternoon sunlight slanting in through the blinds.

_Yuuma,_

_Thank you for all your help. I’m sorry, but I can’t see you anymore. Even thought you healed me, I still want the Barianite. I’m not ready to go out again. I have to become strong._

_I got my first hit of Barianite from a street corner in the shipping market. It’s 37th and 12th._

_Cathy_

_P.S. One of the men who helped came back. He told me he won some more Barianite, but it didn’t work for him anymore._

“If I could get to all of them,” Yuuma said, “Then our enemies…couldn’t hurt anyone, could they?”

“It’s possible,” Astral said.

“Then we have to try.”

+++++

Ryoga followed Yuuma the next day, because he had given Kaito his last good lead and he was still down one Number.

Yuuma didn’t go home after school. Instead he went into his locker room and changed into normal clothes, and he came out with a backpack from which Ryoga could see the end of a banana sticking out. He used a back door, spoke to none of his friends, and looked suspicious.

Ryoga let him get a couple blocks away from the school before he pulled him aside.

“Where are you going?”

“Shark!” Yuuma beamed at him. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Shouldn’t you be with your friends?”

“Ah, I’m just…going for a walk…”

“Alone.”

“I can’t really tell you about it.” Yuuma looked at him with serious eyes. “It’s dangerous.”

Ryoga sighed and grabbed onto his arm. First things first, he thought. “I need a Numbers.”

There was a silence. Yuuma blinked at him, and then looked off to the left intently, and then frowned. “Ah…”

He was talking to his imaginary friend again.

“It’s fine if you can’t help.”

It was not fine, Ryoga thought, but Yuuma looked so uncomfortable. He didn’t want to press him. _God, that is pathetic._ And it still left him with the problem of Yuuma going off on his own, into the city, probably to do something that was dumb. If Yuuma got caught by the Barians, Ryoga would be screwed.

He licked his lips, remembering Yuuma had fed him and called him his friend. They weren’t friends. Ryoga didn’t have friends. But Yuuma was trying.

“Come on, I want to show you something.”

He let go of Yuuma’s arm, and grabbed his hand instead so it looked less like he was kidnapping him, and began following signs to the nearest train station. Yuuma blushed, then looked confused as Ryoga produced a stolen and bent train card and led him through the gates onto the platform.

There was track construction going on somewhere, Ryoga thought. If he stranded Yuuma at a station where trains were halted for a few hours, that would keep him out of trouble.

He picked a train that was mostly empty on the basis that no one in their right mind would go to a station was going to be shut down in ninety minutes. There were empty seats; Yuuma held onto his hand even when they sat down, and their shoulders and thighs kept touching.

Yuuma was staring at him. Ryoga wiped at his mouth with his sleeve, wondering if there was something on his face.

“What?”

“You’re cute,” Yuuma mumbled, smiling — his teeth were very white and his eyes were huge — and nudging Ryoga’s shoulder with his own.

Ryoga opened his mouth to explain that no, he was not cute, and that Yuuma was clearly confused, and then closed it. Yuuma looked perfectly happy, probably because he didn’t know Ryoga was seriously considering locking him in a bathroom. And once he found out, he’d definitely revise his opinion, so it was best if Ryoga just let himself enjoy the moment.

Yuuma’s fingers were warm around his own. The train ride was not long enough.

The fifth stop was dark; the doors opened, but no one got off. This was the place; the station was closed and probably locked, and no other trains were going to be running through here for a few hours.

Ryoga pulled Yuuma up and walked him to the open doors. He snagged Yuuma’s wallet out of the backpack he was still wearing over one shoulder, feeling mildly guilty. Yuuma leaned in to him, his face so close —

Ryoga pushed him off the train just as the doors beeped and started to close.

He saw Yuuma’s expression, betrayed, in the dim light, and then the train started to move. Ryoga sat down and riffled through Yuuma’s wallet — his train card, a little money, a folded letter with an address scrawled messily at the bottom, a photograph of a redheaded woman and a man who Yuuma resembled — and frowned.

The address Yuuma had been carrying was only two blocks away from where Kaito was supposed to be hunting today.

It was supposed to an out of the way part of town where dueling activity was low.

So how did Yuuma know about it?

Ryoga pondered this as he switched trains. He paused only to steal another train card for himself and to refill Yuuma’s (he’d give it back to him somehow). He did not think about how Yuuma’s wallet contained a picture of his parents, and how Yuuma had once told him his dad would be proud of him. He did not imagine Yuuma sitting in the dark station alone. He did not think about the fact that the reason he and Yuuma couldn’t be friends was that Ryoga was an asshole.

He did not keep flexing the hand Yuuma had held, trying to shake the memory of being connected to another person who did not see him as he really was.

He got off at a station near his destination and walked; the night air was cool and the streets were quiet. The houses around him had boarded windows and multiple deadbolts on the doors; the only things open and lit were a few restaurants, and an unmarked building that had the symbol for illegal dueling carved above the door.

One of the restaurants had a window. Ryoga caught sight of Orbital 7 through the smudged glass.

“I’m with them,” he said to the hostess as he pushed past her into the dining room. There was an empty seat at Kaito’s table, since Orbital 7 was a robot who didn’t have normal legs, and he yanked it out loudly and sat down.

“Couldn’t find any Numbers?”

“Shut up,” Ryoga snapped. “Does Heartland work around here?”

Kaito looked terrible. Ryoga was impressed that he had even been able to leave the lab. There were huge bags under his eyes, and he was slumped in his seat.

He frowned. “No.”

“Then why was Barianite getting handed out two blocks down from here? I thought Heartland did all the distribution.”

“He does — unless —” Kaito stopped. “Unless it was one of the Barians themselves.”

Ryoga hadn’t let himself consider that possibility.

“If they can do it themselves, why do they need Heartland at all?”

“I don’t know.” Kaito admitted, and it sounded like it hurt him to say that aloud.

It was weird. And Ryoga didn’t like that Yuuma knew about it at all. If the Barians were just handing out Barianite, and no one seemed to have noticed, it meant that there had to be some other reason they were using humans to go their dirty work. Ryoga wasn’t even clear on who or what the Barians were, beyond them being powerful, greedy, and terrifying.

_I just want to save Rio. I don’t want to have to deal with this shit._

“You think one of them is around right now?”

“There’s no way of knowing.”

Kaito shoved a forkful of salad into his mouth. There was an untouched basket of breadsticks between them, and Ryoga snagged one. He was hungry. There was food sometimes at headquarters, but he hadn’t been back in a while.

It was still hot. He tried not to moan as he dug in.

“I’ll have to collect the Numbers, regardless.”

“You still look like shit, Kaito.”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Can’t you just get your robot to beat them up?”

“I can’t take a Numbers card from a duelist without dueling them.” Kaito sighed. “You can, but you’re the only one.”

Ryoga frowned. He’d thought, once you had beaten a duelist and the card wasn’t possessing anyone, they were fair game, like normal trading cards.

That simplified things. Ryoga was a passable pickpocket.

That would help him collect that last Number before tomorrow afternoon.

“I’m going to go check out the distribution site.” He picked up the remaining breadsticks.

“A Barian wouldn’t need a stabilizing container,” Kaito replied. “So there won’t be any of the usual traces.”

It was as close to a ‘be careful’ as Kaito had ever given him. It seemed strange that only weeks earlier he had hated him; looking at Kaito’s weakened body, at him mindlessly choking down food before he went off to risk his life, Ryoga was concerned.

Being concerned about other people was shitty, which was why Ryoga tried not to do it, but he failed. _Soft,_ Rio called him. He was tired of hearing it.

He left Kaito there, Orbital complaining behind him as soon as Ryoga turned his back, and tried not to worry.

The three blocks from the dueling club to the street corner written in Yuuma’s wallet was uneventful, but he was not the only one going there. There were others walking the same way, with shifty eyes, dressed like they’d gotten lost on their way out of the financial district or the nice suburbs with all the housewives. They didn’t look like real duelists, but their eyes were hungry.

Ryoga didn’t blend in.

So once they were near the street corner, he took a left, walked around the building until he found a fire escape, and sprinted up the rusty metal staircase so he could watch from above. A few of the apartments in this building had broken windows and looked deserted; he picked one with a view and clambered in quickly.

Then he crouched down to observe.

The men and women in their suits and sundresses were gathering around a figure in a cloak and hood that had just appeared form nowhere. They were short, and the hood hid their face. They had long white figures, though, and they were giving out fistfuls of Barianite, dropping the stones into outstretched palms.

_Barian._

“When can I get my next dose?” One of the women asked.

“Don’t ask me! This is a one-time-only special.” The Barian laughed; his voice sounded mocking and male. “You’d better win some more before it runs out.”

“But I need it to get through this month’s closings!”

“If you don’t have time to duel, you can give it all back,” The Barian teased. The woman snatched her hand back and shoved the stones into her purse. She stalked away, her phone to her ear; she was calling for a cab.

It was bright, gleaming Barianite. Of course a Barian would have good quality — but just giving it away for free, to people who didn’t even duel properly? How were they going to spread it around? Nothing made any sense. Ryoga waited until all the Barianite users had taken their fill and walked away; he wanted to see where the hooded figure would go.

The Barian walked until he was directly under Ryoga’s window. Then he stopped, raised a hand, and waved at him.

And then he took off running, so fast he blurred, in the direction of the dueling club. Ryoga flung himself down the stairs in pursuit, heart pounding, breathing hard — the staircase groaned underneath him — he blinked and the Barian was gone —

And Ryoga had been seen, and the Barian had vanished down the street. Kaito was probably in there by now.

He sprinted the entire three blocks.

The dueling club door was, of course, locked, and Ryoga spent a frustrating ten minutes trying to pick it before he cursed and just slammed the door with his shoulder as hard as he could. The metal crumpled surprisingly easily, and the door swung open to reveal a room with some duelists in it, scruffy looking ones, the three Ryoga had picked out as Numbers holders all standing in matching colors, and Kaito alone, using the wall to hold himself upright.

No hooded figure to be seen. And now all the duelists were staring at him.

One of them was glaring, and Ryoga recognized him. Their last run-in had been a disaster, and Ryoga still couldn’t go into that gang’s territory, and — yes — there were a couple other duelists with the same gang armband on.

“What are you doing —”

“What took you so long?” Kaito asked loudly. Ryoga got the hint and went over to him, slouching against the wall beside him. The other duelists grumbled about his apparent lateness, but no one was pulling out a weapon, at least. And none of them were the height of the Barian, who had been sort of short.

But if he could run so fast and vanish in an instant, he might be in here unseen. Ryoga shivered. He didn’t like that.

“You’re going to have to duel now, this is a tag team tournament,” Kaito hissed under his breath. “The ones in blue are the ones who put the bounty on me.”

The word tournament made Ryoga’s stomach turn over. He started to sweat. He could not lose it here.

“I broke one of the guy in red’s balls and he’s still pissed about it.”

Kaito swallowed. “You broke his…”

“Like squishing a rotten tomato.” Ryoga scowled when Kaito crossed his legs. “He tried to stiff me!”

It was just a warehouse. It looked like and was nothing like the Nationals. There was no audience, and he couldn’t afford to reveal this weakness to anyone. But God, his whole body suddenly felt like he were hooked up to a live wire.

“So everyone in this tournament is invested in trying to kill one of us.”

Kaito’s tone suggested he thought some of them were sort of justified. Ryoga made a mental note to punch him in the balls later.

_Focus on being angry._

Their duel disks clicked on at the same time. Ryoga slid his deck in as the smarmy announcer began calling out the matchups; they were playing by ante rules this time. That was good; that made it acceptable for Ryoga to go through the pockets of anyone he beat. He’d only promised Kaito three Numbers, after all. Anything else they found was fair game.

Thinking about Rio made it slightly less terrifying. He wiped his palms off on his pants. He was reliant on Kaito here, and Kaito could sort of be trusted, but…in his present condition…

“Guess we’ll just have to win.”

+++++


	6. Seed of Deception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaito has to work with an old friends. Ryoga meets the Arclights. And Yuuma finds himself an ally...

“K-Kaito-sama...the police are gone…”  
  
Kaito closed his eyes, trying to ignore the rock underneath him that was jabbing into his left kidney. The smell of the dumpster he was lying behind was overpowering; Ryoga was gagging quietly beside him. He was tired again. He’d nearly used up his capacity for dueling.  
  
“The fucking police,” Ryoga mumbled. He’d been hit in the face, and it sounded like his bruised jaw was giving him trouble. “Agh.”  
  
They’d had to jump into the trash to escape the police swarming in. Kaito had almost been shot. Orbital 7 had been shot, but he was made of metal, so he was dented and whiny, but not injured.  
  
“Orbital 7 is supposed to be monitoring police communications.”  
  
Ryoga snorted. Orbital protested. Kaito thought again about moving, getting up off the ground and staggering back to base. But he didn’t. Instead he listened to Ryoga hiss as he rubbed his injured face and reveled in the five -- five! -- Numbers tucked into his Extra Deck.  Admittedly, some of them were duplicates, which was a new and unpleasant development that Tron would no doubt use to increase their quotas.   
  
The reminder of upcoming pain couldn’t squash his triumph, though, because tonight, working with Ryoga, Kaito had only nearly used up his power. He was tired, and he was sore, but the high of dueling was more powerful than usual.   
  
He felt better than he had in months, post-duel. Despite the fact he and Ryoga had had to flee a police raid, it had been a very good night.  
  
Perhaps that was why, when Ryoga started getting to his feet, Kaito followed suit and caught his elbow before he could go.   
  
Ryoga flinched at the contact. Kaito dropped his arm.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Where have you been sleeping?”  
  
Ryoga frowned at him. “...are you coming on to me?”  
  
“What? No,” Kaito said. He sighed. “If the police are running surprise raids, they must have a source. I’m going back to the lab to find it.” He gestured to Orbital 7, who hurriedly changed to flight mode. “If you think you’ll be any use, you can come along.”  
  
He didn’t wait for an answer -- Ryoga would come -- and he let Orbital 7 fly him away. Below he could see a tiny purple figure moving down the street. Kaito smirked to himself as he set course for his lab. It was a full moon.  
  
++++++  
  
The floorboard just outside Akari’s room squeaked.   
  
Yuuma stepped over it carefully. It was a little hard to see with his left eye swollen shut, but he made it past Akari’s room and then past Haru’s room without making a sound. Astral floated in front of him; the light from his body lit the hallway better than what little light reached from the living room.  
  
“Thanks,” he whispered. Astral nodded.   
  
Yuuma tugged down the ladder to the attic. He winced as a muscle in his arm throbbed. Maybe getting into a fight with a mugger at the train station had been a bad idea. Especially since his wallet had gone missing somehow, and now he would have to explain to his sister that he’d lost his emergency credit card, his train card, and his student ID.  
  
Luckily, he’d had enough change in his vest to make the phone call to the police with the address Cathy had given him. But he hadn’t had enough money for a second phone call, so he’d had to walk back.  
  
The attic was as he’d left it. It was warmer upstairs. He crawled into the hammock, threw his vest on the floor, and stared at the clock.  
  
 _4:34 AM._  
  
“Do you think she’ll let me off school?”  
  
Astral hesitated, clearly imagining Akari’s reaction. “...you can sleep in class.”  
  
If he hadn’t been so tired, Yuuma would have laughed. He pulled the blanket over his head and rolled onto his right side. Then he closed his eye.   
  
It felt as if no time had passed at all when Akari shook him awake. Yuuma tried to pull the blanket back over his head as the sunlight streamed in over his face, but his arms were weak with sleep and Akari was merciless.  
  
“Yuuma! Yuuma, you’re going to miss -- _your face!_ ”  
  
“Wha?” He blinked painfully at her. “My face?”  
  
“Your eye, Yuuma, what happened to your eye? Were you in a fight?”  
  
Yuuma opened his mouth, and then closed it. It was unfair, asking him questions first thing in the morning -- Akari knew he couldn’t lie until after noon, and not well, even then -- and he couldn’t think of anything to say. He looked at Astral.  
  
“You fell?”  
  
“I fell,” Yuuma said.   
  
Akari stared at him.  
  
“Yuuma, is everything okay? You don’t have to lie to me if kids at school are picking on you again…”  
  
He was pretty sure that if he said kids at school were picking on him, Akari would march down to Heartland Academy to personally kick their asses. Yuuma hesitated -- it was such a good, easy lie -- and then shook his head.  
  
“I was...uh…getting a midnight snack! And I hit my face on the wall!”  
  
Astral was raising his eyebrow at him.   
  
“You hit your face on the wall so hard your eye is swollen shut,” Akari repeated.   
  
“Yeah!”  
  
“I’m going to get you some ice. When you feel like telling me what _actually_ happened, I’ll be in my office, okay?”  
  
She turned to leave.  
  
“Do I have to go to school?”  
  
Akari sighed. “You can stay home. I don’t want any of your teachers to think _I’m_ beating you.”  
  
Yuuma slumped happily against his pillows. It was bad enough with Akari; if Kotori or Tetsuo or any of the others saw him like this, they would ask questions, too. And they’d want to come with him into the city at night. He couldn’t do that. It was too dangerous for them.  
  
“He left you there on purpose,” Astral said.  
  
“No, he didn’t.”  
  
“He pushed you.”  
  
“He didn’t --”  
  
“And he stole your wallet.”  
  
“...maybe the mugger took it.” Yuuma protested weakly.  
  
“...not everyone can be your friend, Yuuma.” Astral folded his arms across his chest. “Our mission is dangerous. We will have enemies.”  
  
“I didn’t think _you_ were going to be my friend at first,” Yuuma said. “My dad says you have to give people chances.”  
  
“If something were to happen to you, I would be alone. No one can see me, or hear me. I would be trapped in this Key, without my memories, forever.”  
  
There was nothing Yuuma could say to that. He knew there were lots of reasons not to trust Shark, which was why he’d been trying very hard to not think about him all. His gut feeling that Shark was a good person wasn’t proof of anything. His aching face and his missing wallet were.  
  
So why was it so hard to say that Astral was right?  
  
“We’ll be careful, next time,” Yuuma said.   
  
“Thank you, Yuuma.”  
  
There was a crash downstairs. _The ice maker must be broken again,_ Yuuma thought, and he yanked the blanket over his head again. The light was beginning to give him a headache.  
  
Then he sat up again and fumbled for the remote.  
  
“You can watch ESPer Robin,” he offered.  
  
Astral smiled slightly.  
  
The sounds of ESPer Robin fighting evil filled the room. _He has it easy,_ Yuuma thought, and he closed his good eye again, and waited for Akari to bring him the ice.  
  
+++++  
  
The thought of going straight to Kaito’s lab didn’t sit well with Ryoga, so instead he went back to headquarters to eat. The training room in there had a machine that spat out dense, powdery cubes and thick, bland shakes; supposedly perfectly formulated for good health, but disgusting.  
  
It was free food. Ryoga didn’t complain.   
  
Yuuma’s wallet was still heavy in his pocket. Ryoga hadn’t touched anything it it, trying to maintain some moral boundary he was pretty sure he’d smashed long ago, and because he was sure looking in it would just remind him that Yuuma was a good person, who’d tried to be kind to him.  
  
 _I warned him,_ he thought, but it wasn’t convincing.  
  
His stomach filled, he lurked at headquarters for another hour. He ran through a training simulation, poked through the equipment, and checked to see if IV was around. He wasn’t.  
  
When he found himself wondering what Kaito was doing for the third time in as many minutes, he gave up and left. They’d worked together once so far, there was no reason to be attached, and he was not worried.  
  
He was somewhere in the historic district,  getting dirty looks from the tourists and locals alike, when Tron called. Ryoga ducked into an alley and hit the audio-online option on the D-gazer; he hated having to look at Tron’s face.  
  
“Ryoga,” Tron said. He sounded like he was laughing. He always sounded like he was laughing. “Come back to headquarters, why don’t you? We have some work for you to do.”  
  
“I’m  busy.”  
  
“No, you’re not. You have fifteen minutes.”  
  
Tron hung up. Ryoga shoved the D-gazer angrily into his pocket. He was tempted to not go at all, to just wander off -- Tron had kept him alive thus far, he wouldn’t kill Ryoga, probably -- but he was curious. And he didn’t feel being tortured today.  
  
He snorted at his own reasoning, and he started walking. Slowly. It took him thirty minutes to reach headquarters.   
  
Kaito was standing outside the building with Orbital 7, who was rolling back and forth in agitation. He glared at Ryoga. He looked alright, not too pale and not too much like death warmed over.  
  
“You’re late.”  
  
“What, did I hurt Tron’s feelings?”  
  
“The Arclights are here,” Kaito said. “Something is happening.”  
  
Ryoga followed him into the building, down the dim and grey hallways, shivering as the temperature dropped. The hallways were deserted. Ryoga wondered why they’d bothered to build an entire headquarters, when as far as he knew there were five Numbers Hunters using the place.  
  
Then again, he’d only seen small portions of the building. God only knew what Tron did in the rest of it.  
  
“You find anything out?”  
  
“Someone called an anonymous tip to the police from a payphone.”  
  
Ryoga waited. Kaito said nothing. He elbowed him in the side. “And?”  
  
“Anonymous tip records are sealed and heavily monitored, so I couldn’t get in. Orbital 7 can retrieve any security footage from nearby stores, and eventually I’ll have satellite imaging, but for now there’s nothing.”  
  
“You know which payphone?”  
  
“I narrowed it down to a five block radius, based on the --”  
  
“Can’t you just go down there and ask if anyone saw anything?”  
  
Kaito blinked. “That’s inefficient.”  
  
“You’re useless,” Ryoga told him. They’d ended up outside an unmarked door in an even darker part of the building. Kaito had led him there without any problems; he knew the layout better than Ryoga did.  
  
“Here we are,” Kaito whispered, and he opened the door.  
  
It was a conference room, complete with a projector and a slideshow. Tron was sitting at the head of the table, a tiny remote in his hand to control the slideshow, and the Arclights were sitting on his left. There were three of them.  
  
In the middle was IV, looking entirely too smug and healthy for Ryoga’s taste. On his left was an older guy, with long, long hair and a constipated expression; on his right was a pink haired kid he vaguely recognized as IV’s flunkie.   
  
Kaito dug his nails into Ryoga’s arm before he could give in and break IV’s face.  
  
“Sit,” he hissed.  
  
“Yes, Ryoga, don’t be rude,” IV said. “Sit down. Stop baring your teeth at me.”  
  
He lunged. He’d kill him -- he’d tear out his throat, make him swallow his own teeth, drag him outside and set him on fire -- how dare IV smile, or walk, or speak, or do anything when Rio was lying in a coma right now?  
  
Kaito restrained him. He didn’t let go, even though Ryoga elbowed him in the face, hard enough that he heard a crack and smelled blood.   
  
“Just sit down, you can kill him later,” he whispered.  
  
Ryoga did as he said, but it was hard.   
  
Kaito sat beside him, nose dripping blood all over his shirt. Orbital 7 shoved a handkerchief at him, which he accepted and held over his bleeding face.   
  
“Welcome!” Tron said. “Today, one of the Barianite dueling rings was raided by the police. They were tipped off anonymously, as Kaito reported to me. You should all follow his obedient example.”  
  
Ryoga could hear his teeth grinding together.   
  
“Who called in the tip?” The long haired one asked.  
  
“I’m sure as soon as Kaito knows, he’ll let us know.” Tron giggled. The light of the projector was reflecting off of his mask. “But of course, I reported it to the Barians, and they gave me a very interesting piece of advice.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“He said that we should look for three things. Abnormal energy readings consistent with compressed parallel spaces, rumors of another Numbers hunter, and a certain card.”  
  
Tron forwarded the slideshow.  
  
It was a blurry photograph of a Duel Monster. Humanoid. Gold. Long sharp edged wings. Horribly familiar. Ryoga nearly bit through his own tongue, teeth clamped together, his expression perfectly blank...his heart was in his throat.  
  
It was Yuuma’s monster. It was Number 39: Hope.  
  
 _He called in the tip,_ Ryoga realized. _He called it in, and he’s hunting Numbers, and the Barians_ know.   
  
_Fuck._   
  
“V will be leading this investigation.” Tron pointed at the long haired man. Beside him, Kaito flinched. Ryoga filed that information away for later. “And since you and Kaito seem to have too much free time, you two will be assisting him.”  
  
“No,” Kaito said. “I refuse.”  
  
“Of course, you’ll be expected to also meet your regular quotas. Unless you want little Haruto to die…?” Tron shrugged exaggeratedly. “Think about it before you speak, Kaito.”  
  
He stood up. “Get back to work, all of you.” He strolled out of the room. IV and the pink haired one looked at each other, then followed. IV paused behind Ryoga’s chair.  
  
“How’s your sister doing?”  
  
“I’ll kill you!”  
  
IV laughed as Kaito restrained Ryoga again. The chair rocked underneath him as he struggled. He left.   
  
“I’d like to discuss the parameters of our mission with you,” V said.  
  
“I’d like it if you fucked off and died,” Kaito replied. He stood up, his grip still painful on Ryoga’s arms, and began pulling him towards the door. Ryoga forced himself to concentrate on breathing, not on strangling IV, and pulled himself loose.  
  
Kaito hustled him out the door. Now that Ryoga was focusing, he could see Kaito was seething. He was breathing hard, and his eyes were narrowed, and he was stomping down the hallway like the floor was offended him.  
  
So he knew V.   
  
Kaito’s phone buzzed in his pocket.  
  
“You gonna get that?”  
  
“It’s V. It can wait.”  
  
+++++  
  
Chri — V kept calling him.  
  
Kaito retreated back to the lab, where he plugged his phone into Orbital 7 and had him project the text messages onto the wall while he worked. Ryoga stood in the background and snickered as he flipped through a pile of maps of the city. He’d suggested they go talk to everyone near a pay phone within a five block radius, so Kaito had handed him the maps and a pile of data and told him to make himself less useless.  
  
He worked hard, at least. Besides laughing at V’s harassment, he didn’t get distracted.  
  
V wanted him to meet today, in an hour, in five minutes or he’d call Tron. They were working with IV, than with Droite and Gauche, then with III, then alone but after an extra shot of radiated trackers.   
  
He was getting increasingly desperate as Kaito ignored him.  
  
“You gonna answer him?”  
  
“Don’t worry about it.”  
  
“No one cares about you. But your brother —”  
  
Kaito shrugged. “Once I’m done running this, I’ll forward him what we have.”  
  
“That won’t piss him off more?”  
  
“I don’t care if it does.” Kaito blew up the timeline he was putting together, from the moment of the tip being called in to the police. How fast did the response have to be be before he had to worry the police were finally mounting more aggressive tactics against the Barianite problem in the city?  
  
Between his father and Mr. Heartland, Kaito had always ignored the problem of the police before. They were covering for him, he knew, as long as he kept to the shadows. But things were changing.  
  
He didn’t know if they would protect him, now. Even if he was useful.  
  
“This mission came straight from the Barians,” Ryoga said. “So it’s not really Tron we have to impress.”  
  
“No.” Kaito dismissed the timeline and pulled up the map of payphones. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they just told Tron to find the Number and the energy signature, and Tron is just using this as an opportunity to make his pet hunters look better.”  
  
“Well, we made quota for the next couple weeks.” Ryoga threw a file at him. “Let’s go. If you’re not gonna let me beat IV, at least let me humiliate him.”  
  
“You beat him to death, Tron will kill you.” Kaito picked up the file. A photo of a pay phone with the street food stand next to it had been circled. “If you make him less useful than you are…”  
  
He took Ryoga’s faint noise of frustration as assent.   
  
“Let’s go.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“We’ll meet V at headquarters, then go see about this.”  
  
“Quit ordering me around,” Ryoga grumbled. He stood up and slid on his jacket. “You coming or what?”  
  
Kaito reached for his own coat, ignoring the twinge of pain in his chest as he zipped it up. He was skipping treatment to do this. It was more important than he was, for now.  
  
Orbital 7 passed him a syringe as they walked out the door; Kaito stabbed it into the side of his neck as discreetly as possible.  
  
Not discreetly enough; Ryoga was watching him as he locked the lab door.  
  
“I can see V without you.”  
  
“I’m fine.”  
  
“Sure.” Ryoga slid into step beside him, one step behind, so that he was covering Kaito’s back and his left. Kaito pretended not to notice this, or Orbital 7 doing the same on his right.  
  
He was fine.   
  
The walk to headquarters was short. Sometimes, Kaito was alarmed by how little he noticed about the city these days. When he was focused, he saw threats, targets, hiding places, danger zones. He no longer noticed the people or the smells of food or the flashing neon signs.   
  
He wondered what it was Ryoga saw as they walked. What he’d done, where and how, if the city was alien to him as it was to Kaito, for all that they were born and raised here.  
  
V was waiting in Kaito’s dummy laboratory, leaning on the nearest computer bank with his arms crossed. He looked agitated, not calm and collected.   
  
Kaito immediately felt better.  
  
“Well?”  
  
He handed V the file Ryoga had given him. “We’re going to investigate the payphones. Are you coming?”  
  
V flipped through the file. “Too slow.”  
  
“Then get me the satellite images of the city over the time period of the call. A profile of the energy signature we’re looking for. The call log from the tip.”  
  
“Those things all take time. And they attract attention.” V snapped the file shut. “As does talking to people all over the city about whether they saw anything at a pay phone.”  
  
“You do a lot of whining for a guy who doesn’t do anything,” Ryoga said.  
  
“He does, doesn’t he?” Kaito snatched the file out of V’s hands. “Fine. Call me when you’re prepared to be useful, V.”  
  
“Kaito.”  
  
He stopped, mid-step. V was looking at him.  
  
“Don’t miss your quota.”  
  
Kaito slammed the door behind him.   
  
“So,” Ryoga said as they walked through headquarters. He steered Kaito away from the front door and deeper into the building. “You know that guy?”  
  
“I did.”  
  
“He going to follow us?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Is this room empty?” Ryoga kicked open a door at random. It was an empty room, a large storage closet. Kaito followed him in in confusion.  
  
“What are you doing?”  
  
“How long do we have before he shows up?”  
  
“Maybe ten minutes, he’s not a good tracker and he’s slow — mmph!”  
  
Ryoga slammed him back against the wire shelving and kissed him, hard, his teeth scraping Kaito’s mouth. He dug one hand into the front of Kaito’s jacket; he heard the zipper catch.  
  
His other hand yanked at Kaito’s belt buckle, and Kaito stopped thinking for a moment, confused and aroused and completely distracted.  
  
“Kaito?”  
  
Ryoga pulled away.  
  
V stood in the closet doorway, arms crossed over his chest. He looked absolutely disgusted. And jealous.   
  
“I’m busy,” Kaito managed. He was out of breath. V looked like he was going to burst a vein as Ryoga nuzzled against his jaw.  
  
“Excuse me,” V muttered. He slammed the closet door shut behind him; Kaito could hear him stomping away.   
  
Ryoga rolled his eyes. He’d let go of Kaito as soon as the door was shut. “Let’s go.”  
  
“What was that?” Kaito asked. God, he still sounded like he’d run a marathon. It wasn’t like Ryoga was particularly skilled, it was just — Chris. And the job. That was all.  
  
“I got rid of him, he’s not coming back , let’s go.” Ryoga glanced down at Kaito’s crotch deliberately. “And calm the fuck down, you can’t afford me.”  
  
“I don’t — no.” Kaito sighed. He was not blushing, no matter how smug Ryoga looked. “Move.”  
  
+++++  
  
Vector watched the duelists struggle futilely from the shadows.  
  
In the dark, in his cloak, they couldn’t seem him, but he could see them. He could see everything, and he knew them for what they were: emotional, weak, soft, greedy humans, trying to fill themselves up with drugs and money, overflowing with weakness with every draw.  
  
They were nothings. Vector had set this dueling ring up himself; he’d handpicked the duelists so that the ring would remain untraceable, and so that it wouldn’t get connected with the larger Barianite rings being run by Heartland elsewhere in the city.  
  
No, these were middle managers, mostly, or owners of small businesses, people with enough money to live but aspirations for more, people who had given up on advancement, people who were empty. And people who would not want to get involved with criminals or trust outsiders.  
  
Vector supplied their Barianite himself, and arranged their meetings. They were happy to obey as long as they could hope for their fix.  
  
He surveyed his handiwork. It was excellent. These people were pathetic.  
  
 _So, the Astral Emissary, he wants to help people, does he?_ Vector giggled. _This should keep him busy for a while…_  
  
Eventually they’d have to kill him, and Astral, but to do it immediately was wasteful.  There might be other agents from Astral World hanging around. There was still the problem of Ryoga Kamishiro, who wasn’t a problem yet but certainly could be one in the future.   
  
And just having the human underlings do everything was boring. The other Barians preferred to hang back and feel morally superior. Vector found that things were done…better…when he involved himself personally.  
  
Don Thousand had ordered to him to turn Heartland City into a generator, and produce enough energy to break the seals on his prison.  
  
He hadn’t said that Vector couldn’t enjoy himself while he did.  
  
Vector stepped out of the building and strolled down the street. He stopped halfway to his destination and took off his cloak.  
  
He examined his own reflection carefully. He was pale, with huge violet eyes and bright orange hair. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, both in similar style to Yuuma’s, and the same sneakers.  
  
He left his lapiz on and made a face at himself, trying out a style. It looked sweet and innocent. It was disgusting.   
  
He left the cloak hung over a doorknob and kept walking. Two figures appeared around a corner. One was small, wearing a vest, talking nervously as he paced. The other was blue and floating in place, in silence.   
  
They were so naive. Vector had left them a note, and they’d come.  
  
“Akari’s gonna be so mad,” Yuuma was saying. “I stole her money….”  
  
“Yuuma?” Vector tried out his new voice. It was high-pitched and irritating. “Is that you?”  
  
“Yeah….” Yuuma looked at him. “I got your note….”  
  
Vector came right up to him and grabbed his hands earnestly. “Is it true,” he asked, “that you can…that you can heal people of the Barianite?”  
  
“Um…yes?”  
  
Vector hugged him tightly. He smelled like flesh; it was hard not to accidentally break a few ribs.   
  
“My name is Rei Shingetsu.” He squeezed Yuuma’s shoulders. “I used to work for the Barians, but now…I need your help to defeat them.”  
  
“Really?” Yuuma grinned. “How did you find me?”  
  
“I met your friend, Cathy, and she told me about you. The Barians used to make me distribute their drugs, but I quit…now I’m on the run.”   
  
“Eh?”  
  
“But now that you’re here, I’m sure we’ll be able to fight back! Right?”  
  
Astral was staring at him. He didn’t look in the least bit convinced.  
  
Vector smirked inwardly. With the Numbers starting to split, he wouldn’t have a full set of memories for a long time. He had no choice but to believe in Vector for now.  
  
“Right!” Yuuma said. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“There’s a Barianite ring up ahead, in that building.” Vector lowered his voice. “I think…some of them have kids.”  
  
“Yuuma, we should not —”  
  
“That’s terrible.” Yuuma stared off into nothing. Vector had seen the pictures of is parents in his bedroom, the gravestones in te cemetary, the report Faker had filed when he saved his brat’s life by throwing Kazuma over the edge.  
  
How cute. He wanted to save little children.   
  
“It’s right up there,” Vector whispered. He tugged on Yuuma’s wrist.  
  
“Okay,” Yuuma said. He zipped up his vest and slid off his duel disk.  
  
“Wait. Leave that on, just in case.”  
  
“Yuuma, no,” Astral said.  
  
“Astral, we have to,” Yuuma said. “What’s the point of me having these powers if I can’t —”  
  
“We are gathering the Numbers — you told me you would be careful — ”  
  
“This is more important! I’m sorry! You don’t understand, you don’t even have parents!”  
  
They both fell silent. Yuuma was panting. Astral’s expression was flat.  
  
Then he vanished, back into the Key.  
  
“Come on, Rei,” he said. Vector smiled shyly, and took his hand, and began leading him away.   
  
“You know…” he said as they walked. Vector had left the side door unlocked when he left earlier. “I’ve seen some of your duel footage from school. I’m a big fan….”  
  



	7. Search Shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are searching in the dark -- Yuuma and Rei for an O-bot, Kaito and Ryoga for information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: prostitution, coercion of character into prostituting himself, rei shingetsu exists and he's terrible always. there is no explicit sexual content. 
> 
> things are going to be fucked up for a couple chapters, so if you read and find my warnings to be incomplete or lacking, please let me know. i take it seriously.

“There are a hundred possible payphones,” Kaito said. He handed Ryoga a map. “I expanded the scope of my original search. We need to narrow them down to the most likely ones  we don’t attract attention while we’re canvassing.”  
  
“How?” Ryoga glanced at the map. He recognized three of the payphones, the ones that were in the red light district. He was going to make Kaito canvass those. Someone would  recognize Ryoga if he went, and as long as the Barians kept feeding him, he wasn’t going back there.   
  
He crossed out the few payphones he and Kaito had surveyed yesterday. They’d run into trouble on their way out, and come out with three identical Numbers (Kaito’s opponent had had two, Ryoga was still seething) but by that point it had been too late to keep going.  
  
“By picking out which ones have the least surveillance.”  
  
Ryoga frowned. “You’re assuming the guy who tipped off the cops knew what he was doing?”  
  
“Yes…” Kaito stared at him. “You don’t think so?”  
  
“Makes sense,” Ryoga mumbled. He had to be careful. He doubted Yuuma had known what he was getting into when he called the cops, but he could guess which payphone he’d used -- there was one near the station Ryoga had dumped him at -- and it wasn’t on Kaito’s map.   
  
At the same time, if he was too careful, Kaito would know that Ryoga was holding back. “How’d you pick these thirty?”  
  
“Based on their proximity to the raid and on whether they were in use at the time for a call I could trace.” Kaito shrugged. “Regular calls aren’t as highly secured. Orbital 7 retrieved the call logs.”  
  
“Hmph.”   
  
“What?”  
  
“If they knew what they were doing, why would they call from near the raid?”  
  
Kaito pulled up a map of the building they'd been dueling in onscreen. “Judging from the way the raid was carried out, whoever called them told them where in the building we were and how the room was laid out.”  
  
“Hmph,” Ryoga repeated. Inwardly, he was confused. How would Yuuma have known that? There was no way he could have, unless he’d been there, or talked to someone who had.   
  
Maybe he’d talked to one of the duelists in the dueling ring. Ryoga decided he wouldn’t suggest that to Kaito.  
  
“Of course, it’s possible they knew someone who was present, or were a duelist in that ring, so we’ll have to track them down. The ones who weren’t arrested.”   
  
Fuck, Ryoga thought. Dammit, Yuuma, I hope you covered your tracks. I told you not to get involved!  
  
A tiny voice reminded him that Yuuma had been involved before he had been, but he dismissed it as a stupid little voice.   
  
“Ryoga.” Kaito’s tone changed. Ryoga tensed. “How did you find out about that place?”  
  
Ryoga couldn’t hesitate. “Some guy I dueled before was talking about it.”  
  
“Who?”  
  
Ryoga rattled off a name.  
  
“You should talk to him again.”  
  
“Hn.” Ryoga had made that name up. And now he was going to have to come up with a better explanation, and soon. Kaito would check.  
  
Kaito glanced around the lab, which was a mess. There were papers everywhere, maps and call logs and time lines displayed on every available screen, and a bag of trash from the takeout Kaito had made Orbital 7 pick up. He swept everything off the stretcher that lay in the center of the room.  
  
“Get to work.” He hefted himself onto the stretcher and stripped off his jacket and shirt. Kaito began taping electrodes to his chest. He worked fast enough that Ryoga could tell he’d done hundreds of times. “I’ll...join you later.”  
  
After he got whatever treatment he was getting for his Photon disease or whatever. Ryoga had seen him give himself injections, and hook himself up to an IV with a bag of disturbing green fluid, and study the readings from a box that pierced his palm with a needle. Orbital 7 was always taking readings and reminding Kaito he had however many minutes of dueling time he had.  
  
Last night had been good for Kaito, he knew, just based on the frequency of Orbital 7’s whining. And they had enough Numbers that they could focus on the investigation (much as it galled Ryoga to have to work for IV’s brother, he had no choice if he wanted to try and keep Yuuma out of it) so Ryoga had no excuse for not getting right to work.  
  
He wanted to see Rio, though.  
  
“Right.” Ryoga snatched up the map and folded it messily. He shoved it into an inside pocket of his jacket. “Later.”  
  
“Tch,” Kaito replied. He was inserting his own IV carefully while Orbital 7 charged silently in the background. Ryoga nodded at him, not wanting to wait any longer, and headed out.  
  
His sleeve was beginning to fray, already, even though these clothes were new. They were mostly like his old set, the same style of jacket and pants, just without the gem studs at the wrists and down the front, and in a more muted purple. And they were warmer.  
  
But not sturdier. There was something steadying about the fraying, the reminder of how poor he really was. He couldn’t get comfortable. One mistake, and he would lose everything, and he would have to go back to much worse things.   
  
He missed his old clothes. He’d stolen them years ago when the clothes he was wearing stopped fitting. They’d been in the window of some designer shop. Ryoga could never have dreamed of affording new clothes back then, let alone expensive ones, but he’d convinced the gang he was hit to rob the store. Then he’d made off with the clothes in the confusion.  
  
He’d gotten much better at taking care of himself after that. Maybe he could have bought or stolen new clothes. But those had been special, because they were his, just because he’d wanted them. He’d been selfish, just that once.  
  
He doubted Kaito, who owned an endless supply of his flashy Photon Mode outfit, could understand. But the fraying made this jacket a little more like that jacket, and it made Ryoga like it a little bit more.  
  
Rio would have understood, even if she’d have laughed at him. Maybe.  
  
It had been a few days since Ryoga came to the hospital, but the side door he used to sneak in hadn’t had the passcode changed yet. He punched it in, one-two-one-three, and climbed the seven flights of stairs to the floor with the coma ward. Rio’s room was the last room in the hallway, and there was nowhere to hide between the ward entrance and her door. Ryoga always took it at a dead run.  
  
The nurses were having some kind of meeting, and Ryoga slipped past them. Not that it would have mattered; some of them knew him, and covered for him. They liked him, despite or because he was so pitiful.   
  
Rio was the same as she always was. It still hurt.   
  
“I’ll get you more Barianite next week.” He sat down in the recliner that was sitting next to her bed. One of the volunteers who read to coma patients must have been by. “I won a lot of Numbers. You should be good for a couple weeks.”  
  
He was forgetting how to talk to her. Ryoga blinked back tears.  
  
She hated it when he cried.  
  
“So, what, you just gonna sleep?” He picked up her limp hand. “And you used to call me lazy…”  
  
The monitor continued to beep slowly.  
  
“You’re such a bitch. Going into a coma after a stupid fire. it’s pathetic.”  
  
Beep. Beep. Beep.   
  
“Fuck you, Rio,” he mumbled. “I hate you.”  
  
He thought about Kaito, and his dead-eyed little brother, and Yuuma with the sister that yelled at him, and the way his parents had screamed in the moments before they’d died.   
  
He thought about IV, with a brother on each side, mocking him.  
  
They lived, and Rio was...Rio was…  
  
He wouldn't cry.  
  
At least, not until he was somewhere Rio couldn't hear it. Just in case she was still listening.  
  
+++++  
  
Chris still hadn’t sent him the satellite imagery he had asked for, or any of the other information Kaito needed to continue his investigation into the raid, but he had sent Kaito the profile of the energy reading they were all supposed to be tracking.  
  
A brief search using the image Tron had provided of the Numbers had yielded no results in the database of  Numbers the Hunters kept, or in the official card database. And Kaito had never seen any signs of other hunters, or any reports of soulless bodies. But that did leave him with a lead, because Ryoga was a Numbers Hunter who had the ability to take Numbers without taking souls.  
  
Kaito hadn’t had an opportunity to search Ryoga’s deck and confirm he wasn’t the Numbers Hunter they were hunting (although he doubted it; the Barians could easily capture Ryoga if that were true). And he couldn’t see any reason for Ryoga to betray them so stupidly. Ryoga needed them, and he wouldn’t jeopardize himself.  
  
But he was...unusual. Perhaps the Hunter they were searching for was too.  
  
Most of the blood sample he’d gotten from Ryoga initially was gone, used up in experiments, and the data it had yielded had been useful. But with a fresh sample, he could compare it to the energy profile Chris had sent. Or even scan Ryoga himself -- Orbital 7 could do it discreetly -- now that he had an idea of what he was looking for.  
  
Ryoga had a sister, but no other siblings or living family members, so unless he had unknown relatives, whatever was different about him wasn’t genetic. Kaito had checked himself, reluctantly, to see if it could be sexually transmitted or transmitted by close contact (although with Ryoga’s history the odds were minuscule.)   
  
Which left him with no idea what the connection was. It would help, he thought, if he knew more about Ryoga. He could bring it up with V…  
  
He dismissed the idea immediately. He could only imagine what Tron would do if Kaito showed him the connection. They would hurt Ryoga.  
  
Not that it matters. It would just hamper my investigation, and lessen my efficiency.  
  
He’d ask Ryoga for a second blood sample when he saw him next. Explain why he needed it. Perhaps Ryoga would have an idea.   
  
His medication was almost done infusing. Kaito checked the bag -- it was near empty -- and tossed a stapler at Orbital 7. It landed with a crash near his head.  
  
“Kaito-sama!”  
  
“Get up. We’re leaving.”  
  
“Yes…” Orbital disconnected himself from the charging port and began tidying the nearest lab bench. Even being modified for hunting and combat couldn’t break him of his babysitting habits. He was a nursing bot at heart, even though he served Kaito in a different capacity now.  
  
He grabbed a copy of the map and sent Ryoga a message demanding to know which sites he’d covered. Kaito could start at the opposite end of town, and work his way across. It was safer if they avoided been seen together too often by people they weren’t going to duel.   
  
Ryoga’s reply told him to fuck off, and also that he had started on the eastern most end, nearest the hospital.  
  
He must have been visiting his sister, Kaito thought, and his chest twinged.   
  
Get to work, he messaged back. He unhooked his IV and slapped some gauze and medical tape over it, to stem the bleeding. It was sore; he would use the other arm next time. It was best to rotate the site of infusion as much as possible.  
  
He put on his shirt, then his jacket. “Orbital 7!”  
  
“Yes, Kaito-sama! Flight mode engaged!”  
  
“Wait until we’re outside!”  
  
“Yes, sir!”  
  
Kaito steeled himself as he flew. This would be his most difficult mission yet.  
  
He had to talk to people, and make them answer his questions, without threatening them.  
  
“Kaito-sama, if you wish, I can do the surveillance…” Orbital’s voice quavered.  
  
“I’m perfectly capable,” Kaito lied. He landed on a rooftop, and checked the map while Orbital 7 switched to normal mode. He could see the payphone from the rooftop; there was an adult video store across the street from it, with huge tinted windows. There were displays behind the glass, but sightlines would still be good.  
  
He would go inside and ask. No problem.  
  
Kaito climbed down a fire escape, jumping the last ten feet to the ground, and crossed the street quickly. No one was around to catch him going into the video store.   
  
The first thing he saw was a mannequin, bent over, wearing a strap-on. This seemed to be in defiance of the way Kaito had thought strap-ons were used.  
  
The second thing he noted was the clerk, leaned against the counter by the register, looking deeply bored. She was playing a noisy video game on her phone.   
  
“You looking for something?”  
  
Kaito glanced over his shoulder. He could clearly see the payphone through the window.  
  
“That payphone. Were you here two days ago?”  
  
“Maybe.”  
  
“What time?”  
  
“Look, this is a clean place, we don’t do anything illegal --”  
  
“I’m not here about the shop!” Kaito sucked in a deep breath. “I want to know if you saw anyone use that payphone between five and seven pm.”  
  
“Nah. No one.” Now that Kaito wasn’t threatening her livelihood, the clerk turned her attention back to her game. ‘You want anything? Dildos are half-off right now.”  
  
“No,” Kaito said firmly. He left the store.  
  
A passerby eyed him suspiciously. Kaito glared.  
  
He was deeply relieved when, while checking the site of his next pay phone, his phone rang. It was a text message from Tron.  
  
Kaito was less relieved.   
  
“Surprise Numbers collection,” Kaito read. Their quotas weren’t due for another three days. What was Tron doing, collecting them early?  
  
Trying to undermine Ryoga and himself, of course. The Arclights had probably just made quota, so Tron was trying to find an excuse to punish them. After all, if they didn’t do well, he could justify his decision to keep his Hunters in charge and make them the only recipients of Barian crests. And he would continue to stay in the Barians’ favor, while Heartland and Faker were...not.  
  
He was in for a nasty surprise, then, because he and Ryoga were doing exceptionally well.   
  
Ryoga messaged him next. Tron?  
  
Kaito typed back, we scare him. He could imagine Ryoga smirking. Find anything?  
  
No, Ryoga replied.   
  
Kaito hadn’t expected anything different. He pocketed his phone and began walking towards where Orbital 7 was hiding, badly. Maybe white was not the best choice for his color...Kaito would consider repainting him a more subtle shade of grey.  
  
“Orbital. Headquarters.”  
  
The city grew smaller as he took off and flew. Kaito much preferred it that way.  
  
Tron and the Arclights were waiting when he arrived, in Kaito’s decoy lab. They were obviously searching it for information -- V was trying to guess his password -- when he walked in. Kaito stood in the doorway and watched in silence for a few minutes as V tried various things: Haruto, Christopher, his mother’s first name.   
  
The password was actually a sixteen-character string of letters, numbers , and symbols, because Kaito wasn’t an idiot.   
  
He heard Ryoga’s distinct footsteps behind him, and cleared his throat.  
  
“Excuse me,” he said as Ryoga shoved past him.   
  
“Kaito,” IV said. He was posing against the computer bank. Kaito had never really cared for IV before, but the way Ryoga ground his teeth every time IV was present was rapidly ruining his opinion of him.   
  
He was sure Ryoga’s story about IV attacking his sister was true. Nothing else could make anyone so insane with rage.  
  
Kaito grabbed the back of Ryoga’s jacket in warning. It was fraying, he noted. He should replace it. Later.  
  
“Now that we’re all here,” Tron said. He clapped his hands together. “Let’s see your Numbers!”  
  
Kaito dropped his seven Numbers on the table. Ryoga produced his six, glaring at Kaito’s stack (they had flipped a coin for first choice of opponent, Ryoga had won and chosen wrong). III had two; IV had three; V had two.  
  
Tron carefully examined each of their stacks. He looked angrier and angrier as it became clear how outclassed the Arclights had been. He was dangerous, and there would be reprisal. But Kaito savored the moment anyway, savored Chris’s expression, savored the way Ryoga’s mouth had turned up at the corner as IV sweat.  
  
“Well,” Tron said. He sounded like he was trying to sound normal (normal for Tron) and he was failing. His voice was shaking with rage. “Since you two have been so busy, perhaps I should increase your quotas.”  
  
“Naturally.” Kaito smiled. “And you’ll report that to the Barians -- that Ryoga and I are such able Hunters?”  
  
Tron looked murderous. “Kaito…”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
And then Tron smiled. “Ryoga. Since you won’t be hunting, IV will be borrowing you.”  
  
“Fuck no --”  
  
“Or else I’ll get rid of you!”  
  
“No, you won’t.” Ryoga rolled his eyes. “Don’t make threats you can’t back up.”  
  
“Fine! Then I’ll reduce your pay --the Barians don’t enjoy giving you Barianite, I assure you. It goes to waste, after all, if you aren’t distributing it.” Tron adjusted his mask. “IV. Take him. Put him to some use.”  
  
“Yes, Tron.” IV was smirking again, but he looked a little strained now.   
  
“V. Kaito. I expect results.”  
  
“Yes, Tron,” V said. “Kaito. Come.”  
  
Kaito wanted to protest. He absolutely didn’t want Ryoga to go with IV, but he couldn’t think of anything he could do that would help. And he absolutely couldn’t risk Tron doing something to Haruto, like withholding his treatments.   
  
Ryoga shrugged, the motion so forced Kaito’s shoulders twinged in sympathy. “Fine. Let’s go, IV.”  
  
“Yes.” IV said. “Let’s.”  
  
The two of them left, III following silently behind, flanking Ryoga. V pointed at the computer bank, and Kaito moved to unlock it. He would change his password later; the whole system could be controlled remotely from his real lab. He had stored a fraction of his data here for V’s eyes.  
  
He listened for Ryoga’s footsteps until they faded away.  
  
+++++  
  
By the next morning, Yuuma had decided he liked Rei a lot.    
  
He was so earnest, and Yuuma had felt connected to him immediately -- they were on the same mission, believing in the same things, even wearing kind of the same outfit -- so much so that he’d promised to come back the next night.  
  
“Oh, but Yuuma...I know you’re busy…” Rei had glanced at Astral.  
  
“This is the most important thing,” Yuuma had said. Astral hadn’t looked happy.  
  
It wasn’t that the Numbers were unimportant. Yuuma knew they were, and he knew, with the duplicate Numbers appearing and the further fragmenting of his memories, Astral had to be worried he’d never regain them all. But even when Yuuma did nothing, Numbers just appeared in front of him. And Shark had told him that the Numbers were somehow connected to the Barianite.  
  
Now their enemy had a name. They were Barians. And Yuuma was going to find them, and find out why they were doing this to innocent people, and figure out how to stop them.   
  
Last night had been a success. Yuuma had been able to help three of the duelists there by following them to the train station and getting onto their train. They hadn’t believed him at first -- in fact, one had tried to duel him and the other had socked Yuuma in his already bruised eye -- but in the end he’d been able to cure them. They’d been grateful. One of them had shown him a picture of their little daughter.  
  
Poor Rei had hidden behind him. As it turned out, he wasn’t a great duelist.  
  
But that was fine. He was good at finding Barianite rings, and Yuuma could handle everything else. They were going to be a great team. Him and Rei. And Astral.   
  
It wasn’t that Astral wasn’t great, because he was! But he wanted Yuuma to be careful, and focus  on the Numbers, and no one else could see or hear him. Rei was a flesh and blood human just like Yuuma, with Yuuma’s problems, and he understood that Yuuma could never let the city be consumed by drugs and danger if he could stop it.  
  
This was home.  
  
After a brief and deep night’s sleep, Yuuma dressed, and iced his face before going to school. He was late, a piece of toast jammed in his mouth, when he saw Rei fighting with an O-bot.  
  
Yuuma rushed to the rescue.  
  
“Hey! Leave him alone!”  
  
“You are a dumbass!” The O-bot yelled, and it rippe Rei’s deck off his belt. “Goodbye!”  
  
Then the O-bot started rolling away, fast. Rei tried to grab onto it, but it shook him off, and Yuuma’s attempts to grab it were even more useless. He and Rei saw on the ground, stunned, as the O-bot escaped.  
  
“What was that? Geez, that O-bot was weird.” Yuuma dusted himself off. His pride was sore, but it was nothing a little kattobingu couldn’t fix. “You okay?”  
  
Rei’s eyes filled with tears. “My deck…”  
  
Yuuma slapped his back. “Don’t worry! I’ll get it back for you!”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Really!”  
  
“Yuuma, you’re the best! I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t here.” Rei clung to his arm. Yuuma grinned as he gently pried his fingers off.   
  
“Ah, it's nothing...right, Astral?”  
  
“You should go to school,” Astral said tonelessly.  
  
“Aw, come on!”  
  
“He’s right, Yuuma. I’ll track that O-bot down! Then, after school, I’ll come get you, okay?”  
  
“Alright! but, uh, meet me over here, okay? Not at school!”  
  
“Eh? Yuuma…” Rei’s eyes filled with tears again. “You’re embarrassed of me?”  
  
“No!” Yuuma shook his head violently. He hadn't meant for Rei to take it  like that! “If my friends see you, they’ll wanna know what's going on. It’s too dangerous for them.”  
  
“Of course...okay, right here is where I’ll be!” Rei linked arms with him again. “I’ll walk you to school!”  
  
Yuuma was suddenly reminded of the feel of Shark’s hand. He jerked away. Rei looked hurt.  
  
“Nah, it’s okay! I got it!” He took off running before Rei could protest.    
  
He made it to school on time, so no one asked him any difficult questions. Ukio-sensei eyed his face suspiciously, but he didn’t say anything. Kotori put some make up on him the bathroom during lunch.  
  
Yuuma told her about Shark while she patted powder around his eye.  
  
“He sounds like a bad guy,” Kotori said seriously. She produced a tube of thick beige liquid and began using it on his face. “Be careful, Yuuma.”  
  
“I am,” he said. Kotori raised her eyebrows, looking eerily like Astral, who floated behind her and made the same expression.  
  
“Okay.” She patted his shoulder. “Let’s have lunch.”  
  
The day seemed to fly by. Before long, it was over. The bell rang.  His friends went to the arcade, and Yuuma and Astral made their way back to the place he’d run into Rei before.  
  
Rei was already there, sitting on a curb and playing with a yo-yo. “Yuuma!”  
  
“Rei! Find anything?”  
  
“Yeah! That O-bot is hanging out at the marina.” Rei lowered his voice. “And it has a Numbers!”  
  
“What? A robot duelist?” Yuuma pumped his fist. “Alright! A challenge! Let’s go, Astral!”  
  
“Perhaps this Numbers will have more memories as to my purpose here on Earth,” Astral said quietly.   
  
“I hope so,” Yuuma said. He glanced up at Astral. “But if not...I’m not giving up until you get all your memories back, okay? Even if it takes a long time.”  
  
“Of course,” Astral said.   
  
He doesn’t believe me, Yuuma thought. It hurt.  
  
He followed Rei down to the marina, using several shortcuts that were increasingly dubious. One hour, three alleyways that were dead ends, and a trip through the rose bushes later, they arrived at the marina. There were boats of all shapes and sizes docked, and it was crowded. Rei walked down the docks like he belonged there; Yuuma tried to mimic his stride.  
  
“Over here,” he whispered. He pointed; Yuuma followed his finger to a wooden shack that at by the docks. It looked like a fishing supply store. “The O-bot is in there.”  
  
“Okay,” Yuuma replied. He nodded at Astral, who didn’t respond. “We’ll get the Numbers, and your deck back. Wait here!”  
  
“But what if it’s dangerous? I think I should watch,” Rei said.  
  
“Okay...be careful.” Yuuma patted his shoulder. “Let’s go!”  
  
The door was unlocked, and it was dim inside. Rei closed the door behind them. It locked with a click.  
  
It was a little like a horror movie Yuuma had once watched and vehemently denied being scared of. He clutched at his deck.   
  
And then the O-bot appeared. Its eyes were glowing pink, and it was wearing a weirdly-shaped duel disk on one skinny metal arm.   
  
“Duel Mode online,” it said. “I challenge you!”  
  
“Then let’s duel!” Yuuma cried, and he slammed his deck into his duel disk. It glowed brightly for a moment, and the world tinted green briefly as his D-gazer went online. The on light lit up; everything was functioning correctly.   
  
“I draw!”  
  
+++++  
  
IV took him to the red light district.  
  
Ryoga was sweating by the time they got there. He had been initially afraid he’d be in a tournament -- IV had to know he was afraid of them -- and he’d been trying to prepare himself mentally. He’d managed alright during the last one, with Kaito there, but he had no desire to push himself.   
  
Instead, they were here, in front of a bar. Ryoga had been to this bar before, when he was...practicing. It was easy to pick up men, or be picked up. He’d learned a lot here.  
  
Mostly, that he had no shame, no limits, no line that he wouldn’t cross for Rio. It had been comforting to know he could do it, once he stopped being disgusted with himself.  
  
These days, Ryoga could get fucked, collect his money or information, and not ever throw up afterwards or cry.  
  
“One of the tech guys from the Heartland police is in there,” IV said. III handed Ryoga a creased polaroid; the mark was middle-aged, balding, pudgy, wearing yellow plaid.   
  
“Yeah?” Ryoga made himself sound bored. Maybe if he didn’t give IV a reaction, he’d reveal what the real plan was.  
  
“Yeah. Fuck him, and pick his pockets, and see if you can get him to reveal some police secrets during the pillow talk.”  
  
“No one makes pillow talk with whores,” Ryoga said tightly.  
  
“Then you’ll have to work extra hard.” IV smirked, like he’d made a hilarious joke. Ryoga had heard that one hundreds of times. Rikuo and Kaio had made that joke, it was that dumb.   
  
He rolled his eyes. His stomach was turning over, and he ignored. IV wanted a show? Fine. Ryoga could give him a show. He could do this.   
  
He shrugged off his jacket and thrust it at III, who took it. His blank expression twisted for a moment. Good. Then Ryoga ran his fingers through his hair until he felt it was sufficiently mussed, and he took his his belt and shifted his deck base so that ti was strapped around his thigh.  
  
“I charge by the hour,” Ryoga said. When IV just looked at him, he sighed. “Pay up.”  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
“Either pay me, asshole, or do it yourself.”  
  
IV stared at him. “You’re joking.”  
  
“I don’t joke.” Ryoga was so tense he was aching, the desire to hurt IV was so strong, and he couldn’t indulge it one way, so he would indulge it in others.  
  
He didn’t want IV to think he could order Ryoga around, just because Tron said so. Not without consequences.  
  
IV produced a wallet -- made of leather, expensive -- and handed him a wad of cash. Ryoga counted it slowly, watching IV twitch while he did it. Then he pocketed it. He slapped Ryoga on the shoulder.  
  
Ryoga didn’t hit him back. His nails dug into his palm, and he drew blood.  
  
“Meet me back at headquarters.”  
  
“I’m waiting right here.”  
  
Ryoga shook his head. “You don’t fit in.”  
  
“Obviously not,” IV sneered.  
  
“So get the fuck out, before someone sees us together and figures out why we’re here, you fucking moron.”  
  
He didn’t wait for their answer. He just started walking.  
  
With his back turned, they couldn’t see how hard he was breathing.  
  
Calm down, he thought. You’ve done this before.  
  
He slipped into the bar -- the bouncer eyed him until Ryoga lifted an eyebrow and hissed, “I’m working,” -- after being informed the owner charged a ten percent commission for letting him work out of his place. That was fine with Ryoga. He handed the guy a few of IV’s crisp bills, and suddenly he was a VIP.  
  
“Looking for this guy,” Ryoga said. He flashed the polaroid III had given him. “Who is he?”  
  
“Oh, Okeda? He’ll like you.” The owner grinned. “End of the bar, baby.”  
  
“Fuck off,” Ryoga said. He went to the end of the bar, and took a seat, two stools down from where Okeda was drinking liquor and looking surly. He was an ugly man; Ryoga hoped he wouldn’t want Ryoga to top him. Or show actual signs of enjoyment.  
  
He ordered himself a drink.  
  
“Cash or credit?” the bartender asked.  
  
Ryoga gestured to his right. “Put it on his tab.”  
  
Okeda looked up at him. Looked him up and down, like he was meat on the butchers’ block. “Excuse me?”  
  
Ryoga gulped down half a glass of his drink. It burned. “You heard me.”  
  
“You have expensive taste,” Okeda said. “Am I buying you these drinks for free?”  
  
Ryoga met his gaze. He tried to think of himself as empty, hollow, nothing inside him that Okeda could see in his eyes. His stomach hurt.  
  
Come on, he thought, irritated. Let’s get on with it.  
  
“i don’t know.” Ryoga drained his glass. “Are you?”  
  
“Oh.” Okeda smiled into his glass. Ryoga was going to pick his pocket after this was over. Not because he needed to. Just out of spite. “I don’t think so.”  
  
Finally, Ryoga thought.  
  
Okeda slid into the seat beside him. He smelled like trash and booze. He touched Ryoga’s shoulder, and Ryoga thought about nothing, nothing at all. He was empty, he was hollow, and he wouldn't allow himself to feel anything until it was over.  
  
It was easiest that way.  
  



	8. After The Struggle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaito tries to handle Ryoga; Yuuma is lonely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of prostitution, coercion into prostitution. no explicit sexual content.

“So,” Rei repeated for the third time, “that O-bot is alive?”

“Yup! And her name is Obomi.” Yuuma pointed at the ribbon tied around Obomi’s...head...thing. “She says she wants a place to live, so I’m taking her home.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Eh? I think Baa-chan will like her…”

Rei shrugged. “Okay…” He grinned suddenly. “but Yuuma! You were so cool back there!”

“Yuuma is lame,” Obomi piped up.

“I am not!”

“Your combo with Hope is amazing! I could never come up with a combo like that…”

“Ehehehe…” Yuuma rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “That was Astral’s combo....”

“Oh.” Rei shrugged. “The way you duel is still cool, though!”

“Thanks!” Yuuma struck a pose. “It’s all my kattobingu, see?”

“Kattobingu?”

“It means taking on every challenge, and fighting with you entire heart!” Yuuma tugged lightly on the Key. “That’s what my dad taught me, so I’d never give up, no matter what.”

“Wow.” Rei stared intently at him. “So that’s the key to your strategy? Astral’s brain, and your kattobingu?”

“That’s right?” Yuuma looked up at Astral. “We’re a pretty good team, aren’t we?”

Astral smiled softly. The Number they’d recovered had given him the rest of the fragment he’d absorbed last time, and now he was happy again. “Yes, we are.”

Rei nodded. “Yeah. You two sure are something.”

“Something lame,” Obomi said. “Where are we going, dumbass?”

“I told you, my house! We have an extra bedroom, so you can live there.”

“A bedroom?” Obomi asked. She stopped rolling. “For me?”

“Yeah...there’s a bed, and a window, and uh…” Yuuma tried to think of what robots liked. “An outlet?”

“Yay. Let’s go.”

“We are going!” Yuuma glanced over at Rei, who was staring off at the sky while he walked. He reached out to steer him out of the way of a trash can. “Hey, are you coming over? I can give you dueling tips.”

“Thanks, Yuuma...but I need to get back to work. I have a good lead.” Rei shook his head. “I’ll contact you when it’s time.”

“Alright.” Yuuma held out his hand. Rei shook it firmly. “Be careful, Rei.”

“You too.” Rei nodded at him, and turned a corner. A moment later, he was gone, and Yuuma was standing on a street corner with Astral and Obomi.

Yuuma looked around. Where was he?

It was clearly time to kattobingu some more.

“We could ask for directions,” Astral said.

“My dad said real men never ask for directions!” Yuuma put his hands on his hips. “Let’s go...that way!”

He started walking. An hour passed in silence. The streets didn't grow any more familiar. The moon was rising, and the streetlights were becoming fewer, and dimmer. Yuuma looked around nervously, hoping against all logic to see something he knew, but he had no idea where he was, or how he’d gotten there.

Then he realized that across the street there was a brightly lit building. Yuuma peered at it, willing to give in and go ask them for directions, and then realized the sign on the front was in the shape of a naked woman. A very naked woman.

“Uh,” Yuuma said. He decided that he was not going in there, no matter what Astral said. “What should I do…”

The door to the ...building...opened, and Shark came out. He was with a man, an older guy with no hair and a weird plaid suit like a knockoff Mr. Heartland. The older guy had his hand on Shark’s back. There was something weird about the whole thing.

Yuuma suddenly felt sick. He ducked behind the nearest building. What was Shark doing?

“Yuuma?” Astral asked. Obomi bumped Yuuma from behind, gently.

He closed his eyes. “Let’s go back that way.”

+++++

Ryoga didn’t come back until four in the morning.

By that point, Kaito had given up any pretense of working, or pretending to rest, or doing anything besides pinging Ryoga’s tracker implants every five minutes and getting increasingly frustrated when it didn't work. He knew it didn’t work. It had never worked, which was why Ryoga had a manual tracker implanted in his jacket, but that jacket was in a dumpster and Ryoga was not.

“Where the hell is he,” Kaito asked aloud. Orbital 7 didn’t answer. The last time he had, Kaito had frightened him.

God, had he been mistaken about Tron needing Ryoga alive? Maybe they’d made the connection he had and Ryoga was in a lab somewhere, being worked on. Maybe he was dead. Kaito punched the table.

His fist throbbed, and he stared at it. He’d met Ryoga by paying him to have sex with him, had personally watched him survive a brutal training regime, had seen for himself that Ryoga was capable. There was nothing for him to worry about. Haruto was suppose to have a treatment this week; there was something to worry about.

And yet, he thought about Haruto and that lead to thinking about Ryoga and that led him back to Haruto and the cycle continued.

If IV had done something to him…

Kaito had no power to threaten the Arclights, not yet. But if Ryoga didn’t come back, he would have to become powerful enough. Because he would be at risk. Not because he was worried about…

...Kaito sighed. He was fooling no one, definitely not himself. He’d sunk as low as texting Ryoga earlier, but there had been no response, and he’d tracked the phone to the jacket.

It was cold out. Kaito wondered what Ryoga was doing without his jacket. If he was shivering. If his heart would pound with anxiety if Kaito went somewhere and didn’t come back. He had the awful sense that Ryoga would, because underneath that shell of cruelty there was a weakness to him. He’d already revealed to Kaito he had feelings.

Kaito wondered why his response had been to develop feelings in return. It was dangerous. But it felt good to care about someone else. It made him feel a little less like a monster.

He pinged Ryoga’s nanite trackers again. They did nothing. He sighed.

“Kaito-sama?”

“What?”

“Ah...your fabrication is done…”

Kaito went over to the fabrication unit and pulled out the finished product.

It was purple. The accents were grey; the zipper was bright green. Kaito had kept the jacket much shorter than his own, in deference to Ryoga’s tastes, and he’d made the pants looser, because he suspected Ryoga would take a pair of skintight leggings poorly. He’d even adjusted the neckline of the shirt to match Ryoga’s. It was sturdy, lightweight fabric that wouldn’t tear or fray easily.

At some point during the long night, he’d run out of things to do, and he’d been too proud to keep pinging the tracker, so he’d roughed out a design for Ryoga’s clothes and thrown it into the fabricator. Now it was done. Kaito had planned all kinds of insults to throw at Ryoga when he handed it over, about Ryoga’s clearly bizarre fashion sense, his awful combat skill, the fact that he’d spilled soy sauce on himself yesterday.

He looked up. _Please, God,_ he thought, _if he comes back alive, I’ll restrain myself to only one insult. He deserves it._

At that moment, there was a knock on the door.

Kaito lunged at the monitor for the security camera.

Ryoga was standing outside the lab, arms folded over his chest. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. And he was scowling.

He looked angry, and he looked uninjured and alive.

Kaito slumped in relief. He waited until he felt like he could face Ryoga and look like he didn’t care. Then he opened the door.

“You survived.”

“Yeah.” Ryoga walked in, passed the lab benches piled with half-done work, passed Kaito’s protein shake one third drunk. He didn’t say anything, not even to make a crack about Kaito’s mess. He sat down on a bench against the wall.

When he sat, he flinched.

Kaito waited. Nothing happened. Ryoga was staring at the floor.

“Ryoga?”

Ryoga reached into his pants pocket and tossed something onto the floor. It was a wad of bills, some crisp and new, some crumpled. They lay there on the tile, and Ryoga made no move to pick them up.

Kaito could think of exactly one way Ryoga could have earned that much money without committing a murder.

 _Oh,_ he thought. It was inadequate. But words were not forthcoming.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Ryoga whispered. His voice was hoarse. Kaito came closer; his eyes were bloodshot, he saw. Like he’d been..crying… “Half of it’s from IV. I didn’t just --”

He stopped. Kaito was grateful for the pause, for the words left unsaid, even though he knew it might be better if Ryoga could say them.

Kaito wasn’t ready to hear them.

“What did he want?”

“He didn’t even know anything. He was -- he was just some -- a nobody.” Ryoga leaned back against the wall, his skull thumping against the cinderblock wall loudly. “At least he paid me.”

“Ryoga,” Kaito said.

“Shut up.” Ryoga covered his face with his hands. “I don’t need your pity. I’m fine.”

His hands were shaking. Kaito kept getting glimpses of Ryoga’s eyes through his fingers. He stared at Ryoga’s shoulder, which he now realized had faint dark marks, like new bruises, and felt instantly filthy for looking at his skin.  
  
He had no right, of course. Kaito had once also…

“If you don't’ want pity,” Kaito said, “you should learn to lie.”

He looked around the lab, for something that would tell him what to do in this situation. Ryoga’s trembling hands could have been nothing, but they weren’t nothing. Kaito felt a terrible dread. He was suddenly certain that if he didn’t act, Ryoga would just quietly crack open, shatter, wither.

He picked up the bundle of clothing he’d just fabricated and tossed it at Ryoga. “Here.”

Ryoga tried to catch, missed, and ended up with a lap full of fabric. “What the hell is this?”

“New clothes.” Kaito turned around, so that his face wouldn't give him way. “Yours were fraying.”

“Yeah,” Ryoga said.

“Put those on. And then lie down. I’ll give you a sedative.”

“What?”

“I refined the traces of the energy signature we’re supposed to be tracking. You can see the map while you wait.”

“What?’ Ryoga repeated. His voice cracked.

Kaito came over to him. He knelt down in front of Ryoga, so that they were at eye level, and he would know Kaito wasn’t trying to patronize him.

“Do you understand what just happened?”

Ryoga didn’t respond.

“You frightened Tron.” Kaito forced himself to look Ryoga in the eye. It was terrifying; he felt like he was staring into nothing. “You threatened him. So he sent IV to break you, because that’s the only method he has. He knows the Arclights can’t compete with us.”

Ryoga looked away.

“Hey!” Kaito lowered his voice again. If he yelled, he thought Ryoga might attack him. “No matter IV told you, or did to you, or threatened you with. There’s nothing he can really do to you. And he is afraid of you.”

He stood up.

“Lie down. Take the sedative. We can get back to work in the morning.”

“It’s four am, you idiot,” Ryoga said. “It’s already morning.”

“Then you should go to sleep quickly.” He was pretty sure Orbital 7 had used that exact tone on him once or twice, at his most insubordinate.

Kaito waited, his back turned. He got out the sedatives and filled a syringe. He threw an extra blanket and a pillow onto the stretcher. Orbital 7 watched him.

Behind him, fabric rustled. Kaito did not sigh in relief, no matter what anyone else might have thought.

Ryoga got onto the stretcher. Kaito had made the jacket a little too big.

Kaito placed the needle against his neck.

“One, two, three,” he murmured, and he pushed down on the plunger.

It was a strong sedative. Ryoga was asleep within minutes.

Kaito ordered Orbital 7 to burn the clothes Ryoga had left on the floor. He packed the money in a plastic bag and stowed in a drawer; if Ryoga asked for it, was there. Kaito had no desire to spend it.

Then he sat down where Ryoga had sat, against the wall on the bench. He closed his eyes. _I’ll only sleep for a minute,_ Kaito thought, and even bleary as he suddenly was, he knew it was a lie.

He allowed it. He deserved that much.

+++++

Ryoga pretended to be asleep.

He woke up, and could hear Kaito moving around. He felt rested, and knew he’d been asleep for a while. The morning was probably over. Tron was probably leaving them a to do list right now.

Not that Ryoga had a phone anymore. IV had taken it with his jacket, and since Ryoga had refused to let him hang around, he had no idea what had happened to it. Tron would tell him to be less careless, when he heard.

Ryoga didn't know how the Arclights had ended up as Numbers Hunters. He didn’t care. But he couldn't imagine anyone working for Tron and actually being loyal to him. There was something there, he thought, and then he let it go.

When he opened his eyes, he’d have to acknowledge all the humiliation he’d endured over the past night. He didn’t want to.

Kaito stopped moving. “You’re awake.”

Fuck you, Ryoga thought, and he opened his eyes. “You’re noisy.”

“It’s two pm.” Kaito was sitting at the computer, in front of another map. Kaito really, really liked maps. He had bedhead, and he wasn’t wearing his jacket. His IV with the bag of gross green liquid was infusing into his right arm.

He looked completely relaxed. Ryoga was immediately thrown off by it.

“Is that the energy signature map?” he asked.

“Yes.” Kaito zoomed out so that the map showed all of Heartland City. “The readings aren’t precise. but at least we have of any idea of where it appears.”

He tapped the map. “The amount of energy oscillates, I think. So without monitoring for several days, or a larger profile of satellite data, or a better energy profile, this is the best we could do.”

“What’s wrong with the original energy profile?”

“The one V sent? It’s messy. I think some of it is actually the energy of the Barianite, but again, I have no way of knowing.” Admitting that seemed to be causing Kaito actual, physical pain.

Ryoga examined the map carefully. The dots were concentrated in two places; the Heartland marina, and a rough neighborhood outside the arts district. Neither were near Yuuma’s school, or his house, or where he had been hanging out when Ryoga found him.

Relieved, he sat up and shoved off the blankets. There was a plate of toast and cold beans sitting on the lab bench, and he grabbed a slice and began eating. He was suddenly starving.

He remembered Okeda offering him dinner and nearly threw up right then and there.

Ryoga made himself finish the toast, ignoring the way his stomach rebelled. He examined Kaito’s map carefully. It was best to encourage him to follow leads that lead him away from Yuuma.

“Marina is near here.”

“I noticed.”

“Don’t you have sensors here?”

“Nothing tuned to this energy signature.”

“You should get on that,” Ryoga said.

Kaito raised an eyebrows. “Do you have anything constructive to offer?”

“Your hair looks stupid.”

“Your head looks like an octopus is sitting on it.”

“Hey , at least I didn’t fuck V.”

Kaito choked. Ryoga pounded him on the back as hard as he could; it didn’t help, but it did make Kaito nearly fall over. So it helped Ryoga feel better, at least.

“Nothing like that ever happened.”

“Bullshit.” Ryoga leaned against the computer bank. “What, did he always top you?”

Kaito gaped at him. “How do you --”

“You were picky about it before.”

Kaito actually blushed. It was incredible. Maybe he’d given himself the wrong drugs this morning. “It was a long time ago. And it means nothing now.”

“Why?”

Kaito stared at him. When it was clear Ryoga wasn’t joking, he went on. “He blames my father for something. I don’t know what. But he used to be my father’s lab assistant and he tutored me, and then he left suddenly and swore vengeance.”

Ah. That explained it, Ryoga thought, why Kaito got so pissed whenever V talked down to him. He had issues about V being in charge of him. Kaito had issues beyond his creepy sick brother and his shitty personality and his Photon Mode cancer or whatever.

Ryoga wouldn’t pity him. He’d give Kaito that much.

“What happened yesterday?”

Or maybe he would pity him. Ryoga scowled. “Nothing.”

“Ryoga, I don’t -- do you really think I’m going to judge you?”

“There’s nothing to say,” Ryoga said. He swallowed a throatful of bile down.

“There’s plenty.”

Ryoga stared pointedly at the monitor.

“How well do you know the other two Arclights?”

“I don’t --”

“Do you want to beat them, or not?”

Ryoga wanted to beat them so badly his pulse was pounding in his ears. It was one thing to degrade himself for Rio, but for IV --

“Talk.” Kaito turned off the monitor. “And I’ll help you.”

“Why?”

That was the sticking point, wasn’t it? It was one thing that they were just dueling together and investigating together. They had to, or they’d get crushed individually. But Kaito was asking for more trust now, asking for Ryoga to tell him...things. Things he’d never told to anyone. Not even himself.

There was a catch. There was always a catch. That was life.

“...I need you.” Kaito stared off to the side. “I’m dying. Haruto needs me. And therefore…”

“You’re pathetic,” Ryoga told him seriously. “Does your brother know? Did you tell him his nii-san was pathetic?”

“Did you tell your sister you stole her bedazzler and used it on your clothes?”

“Fuck off!”

“You first.”

Ryoga ran his thumb over the fang hanging against his chest. It was warm.

“He wanted me to get some information out of some low-level tech grunt from the Police Department. Okeda.” Ryoga rolled his eyes. “The guy didn’t know anything useful. The security logs are above his paygrade.”

“Tch.” Kaito considered this. “Whose paygrade aren’t they above?”

Kaito didn’t ask for the gory details, or even the logistic ones. Ryoga thought about how he’d convinced Okeda to take him to a hotel, about sneaking out after breaking another room to shower, about getting into a fight outside the hotel with some guys who thought Ryoga was infringing on their territory and losing his shirt to their knives, about how apparently, Kaito didn’t care.

That was…good.

“His boss’s boss. Some woman named Reika. He hates her guts,” Ryoga offered.

Kaito’s phone buzzed. He checked it.

His eyes widened. “...does she hate his guts?”

“Probably,” Ryoga said. “Why?”

Kaito sucked in a breath. “Did IV plant anything on you last night?”

 _No,_ Ryoga started to say, and then remembered the slap to his shoulder. “Maybe, yeah. Why?”

“He just sent me a video file,” Kaito said darkly. “And a smiley face.”

Ryoga expected to feel worse about that than he did. He felt sick again, and his vision greyed at the edges briefly, but then he recovered. He gripped the edge of the lab bench to steady himself.

If Kaito got that call log, Yuuma was dead. But if he said anything…did anything...Kaito would know the truth.

And Ryoga couldn’t help him if he was dead. He told himself that again, because the world was tilting dangerously.

“We could blackmail her with this,” he said. “She shows you the call log, or you leak this to the press.”

“Or we could blackmail Okeda directly with it,” Kaito said. He had not, Ryoga noted, opened the file.

Kaito caught his eye. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he said dryly. “I have no desire to watch it.”

“Yeah,” Ryoga said. The sickness in his belly began to recede again. He loosened his grip on the lab bench. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“I will.” Kaito tossed him the phone. “Send him a response. I need to go find out who in the police department is on my father’s payroll.”

++++++

“You took money out of my purse?” Akari shook her bag at him.

Yuuma stared at the floor. “Yeah…” Beside him, Astral floated; his head was lowered, too.

“Why? Why would you —” Akari wiped at her face. “Are you in trouble? Is it drugs, are kids picking on you, did you join a gang?”

“I’m not in trouble.”

“You stole money from me, Yuuma. You sneak out in the middle of the night to do who knows what. You tell me you’re going to a friend’s place and when I call them, they haven’t seen you and they don’t know where you are. You mysteriously lose all your money.”

What could he say to that? It was all true.

“You come back all beat up and make up some dumb story to explain it away, like I’m stupid.” She flung her bag angrily onto the table. “Yuuma, I know that it’s been…hard…since Mom and Dad went missing.”

She didn’t say ‘died’. None of them ever said ‘died’ to each other.

“And I know I’m not them, and I can’t replace them, but I am trying. I promise, I am trying as hard as I can. Whatever it is, I will help you.”

She probably would, Yuuma thought. Akari had all kinds of contacts throughout the city. She would be great at finding out more.

And then she’d be in even more danger. Whatever was happening in the city, Astral and Yuuma were in the center of it. It was dangerous enough already that Yuuma came home every night.

“I love you, Yuuma. Please. Don’t do this.”

“I’m not doing anything,” he lied. One day, he’d be able to tell her the truth, if she’d believe him, but not now. She was his family. He’d keep her out of it. “I just…I needed some money.”

“For what?” Akari ran her hands through her hair. Yuuma hadn’t seen her so agitated since the funeral. Tears were running down her chin. “Why?”

“Sorry. I won’t do it again.” Yuuma stepped back, half-expecting another yell, or a slap, or a threat to ground him until she was thirty.

He had the horrible thought that now that’d he been caught, he’d need another source of money.

But Akari just let out a sob. “Fine,” she said. “I’m going back to work.”

“Okay.”

“When you need me — for anything — I’ll be right down here, okay?”

“Okay,” Yuuma repeated. He glanced up at Astral, who looked stricken. They fled upstairs.

He crawled into his hammock and curled up. The mask mounted on the wall seemed to be watching him, and he thought of his father. Kazuma would have never approved of this ,would he?

Yuuma felt a little sick at the thought of disappointing his father, but then he swallowed it down. His father was...not here. There was nothing he could about it even if he was disappointed. He hugged his pillow.

He wished they were here. Maybe if they were, Akari wouldn’t always look so tired.

“You are protecting her,” Astral said quietly.

“Yeah…” Yuuma buried his face in his knees. “I hope so.”

She was a goodsister. After their parents had vanished, she’d handled everything. Yuuma had listened to her argue with the funeral director, seen her balance the house budget, watched her come home exhausted and still make time to listen to him complain about school. She’d taken care of him.

Yuuma closed his eyes. Maybe things would look better if he slept. He didn’t think he could stomach any homework right now, even if a good report card might make Akari feel better,

His d-gazer buzzed.

“It’s him.” Astral glared.

Rei had texted him. Found a Numbers. Meet me right now. 3439 Green St.

“We’re going.”

“Yuuma --” Astral broke off his complaint. He glared at the message some more.

It was kind of rude, Yuuma thought, but Rei was helping. He was kind of short on that these days, now that he’d stopped asking Cathy and his friends for help. Running into Rei had made him realized just how dangerous everything was. They were just...normal kids.

He and Rei had gifts they could use to make a difference. Yuuma was sure his father would have agreed.

Astral vanished abruptly. Yuuma poked at the Key hopefully, then sighed. He changed his filthy shirt and climbed out the window. The nearest tree had long, thick branches he could snag.

He dropped down to the ground silently. He had enough money left for a train ride, so he walked down to the station. The clerk nodded and smiled at him -- Yuuma was a regular, he’d been using this station since he was a baby -- as he passed by.

There was a train already at the platform when he arrived. The last car was mostly empty, even though it was midday. He’d come home late last night, woken up late, fought with Akari, and he was already gone again. And Yuuma hadn’t eaten. His stomach growled as he snagged an open seat.

Yuuma liked trains. Everyone used them, so you got to really see what Heartland City was all about. You could take them anywhere in the city, so no one was ever really far away. And the motion of the train and the noise was soothing.

Astral seemed to like them, too. Normally he liked to watch the passengers and make observations. He said it kept his mind sharp.

The space that normally Astral normally occupied worried Yuuma. He gripped his deck tightly and counted down the stops to the Green Street station.

Five. The couple sitting two seats down from him got off, hand in hand. Four. The young woman with huge yellow headphones hefted her huge handbag as she stepped onto the platform. Three. The car was suddenly empty.

It felt huge, and dark, and lonely.

+++++

“He wouldn’t give me a name,” Kaito said bitterly. He’d said it three times already, and he could hear Ryoga grinding his teeth together in irritation, but he couldn’t believe it. “He told me he would tell me tomorrow.”

“Why tomorrow?”

“I have no idea.”

Ryoga didn’t ask why Kaito was so hostile towards his father, at least. That was something.

Faker had refused to answer any of his questions, or even listen to Kaito’s complaints. He was working on the machine for the Barians, he said, and nothing else. He didn’t need to know. He’d talk to Kaito tomorrow. Kaito had to remember what he was fighting for.

Kaito fumed. Did Faker think Kaito would lower himself to calling him for anything less than Haruto’s life?

He and Ryoga had taken the map Kaito had produced, using the basic profile of the energy signature they were tracking, and began investigating. He had thrown together a design for a more refined sensor, but that would take hours to make, so he’d handed the blueprints to Orbital 7 and set out on foot.

“This is stupid, you know.”

“Without a better sensor or more satellite data --”

“No, I mean,” Ryoga gestured expansively. “This entire mission. This Hunter we’re looking for. The card. The energy whatever. The call. It’s stupid.”

“...why?”

“It’s not like they’re short on money or drugs,” Ryoga replied. “They could pay every Barianite user in town to look. They could bribe the cops themselves. They could tell what the fuck it is they’re really looking for, instead of just throwing shit at us and letting us loose.”

“The Barians aren’t exactly forthcoming.”

“Tch.” Ryoga shrugged.

Kaito waited.

“It’s getting easier to find Numbers,” he mumbled. “Some Numbers Hunter we’ve never seen or heard of suddenly shows up? Weird energy signatures? Don’t you think it’s…”

“Suspicious? Yes.” Kaito had turned the matter over in his mind before. “As long as Haruto needs the Barians to live, I can’t afford to ask those questions. But.”

“But?”

“You’re right, something about it is off. The rest of the operation is precise. But this investigation is sloppy. Whatever it is they’re looking for...either we don’t understand what it is, or we’re better suited to the task than the Barians are.”

“And you still want to go through with it?”

“If we do this, it could knock Tron out of favor. Give us a chance to move up the hierarchy. I doubt Tron tells us even a tenth of what the Barians tell him.”

Ryoga snorted. “You’d think, with all the information he has, he wouldn’t need us to do all the work.”

“V’s talents aren’t suited for this kind of thing.” Kaito said, in a way that implied V had no talents that were suited for anything.

Ryoga nodded again. He looked troubled, though. Kaito wondered what had sparked this curiosity in him, and then kicked himself. He couldn’t assume Ryoga would be disinterested just because of his...upbringing. His circumstances. Stop looking down on him for his questionable life choices, Kaito told himself.

“...doesn’t it bother you?”

“What?”

“The Barians. Not knowing anything about them.”

Kaito paused mid-step.

“I…” He hesitated. Could he trust Ryoga with this? There was the slightest chance that he was involved, somehow, with the Barians. It was hard to believe that, after last night, but the rational part of Kaito’s mind kept reminding him that Ryoga alone could handle the Barianite without any equipment.

“I have reason to believe,” he said slowly, “that the arrival of the Barians in Heartland City -- was connected to my brother's illness.”

“What?”

“I don’t know anything. I’ve never even met the Barians. But…” Kaito thought of Faker.

As Haruto had deteriorated, he’d gone mad, spending all his time in the lab while doctors came in and out and Kaito cried when there was no one around. One afternoon he’d staggered into Haruto’s bedroom.

He’d looked like a corpse. He was covered in dirt. He had said, “I’m back,” and then gestured to Kaito.

“Bring your brother,” he had said. “Come. I’ve found a way.”

“Yes, Father.”

“And don’t call me Father in front of them.”

Kaito had only discovered the details later. It had all happened so quickly. One moment he’d been worrying about how he was going to finish his degree and take care of Haruto at the same time.

The next he'd been flat on his back in the lab, a needle pointed at his eye, ordering Orbital 7 to begin.

“I want the answers to all those questions,” Kaito said. “But we can’t strike blindly.”

“What’s wrong with your brother?”

Kaito looked down at the sidewalk. “...everything.”

Ryoga coughed to cover the awkward silence. He walked a little faster, and they turned the corner and arrived at the first site Kaito had found.

Heartland Stadium. The premier sports and dueling arena in the city, and in fact in this half of the country. Kaito had never spent much time here; his brother preferred the amusement park next door. But beside him, he saw Ryoga freeze.

It could have been nothing, but his hands were trembling.

Kaito poked him in the side, and Ryoga jumped, stumbled, nearly fell. He was staring transfixed at the Stadium, and not at Kaito, could could have been holding a weapon.

“Is there a problem?”

“No.” He was an awful liar.

“I could have been holding a knife.”

“Tch.”

“Ryoga.” Kaito thought back to their tag duel, and how pale and clammy Ryoga had looked at the time. To the note in Ryoga’s official Duelist Network file, marking him as a known cheater. He formulated a hypothesis.

No, he thought, that would be ridiculous. How would he have ever collected any Numbers if that were true?

“Are you afraid of tournaments?”

“No!”

“You can take the second site.”

“I’m fine. Just thinking about -- IV.” Ryoga pounded a fist into his open palm. “Come on. Let’s go inside.”

Heartland Stadium was owned by Faker, so Kaito’s key card worked on a service entrance. Ryoga followed close behind him as they entered; it was dimly lit, the floors were sticky, and all the doors and hallways looked the same.

“What are we looking for?”

“What?”

Ryoga sighed. “I get that there was weird energy here —”

“It’s a gravitational abnormality with —”

Ryoga mouthed something to himself.

Kaito stared. _Did he just call me a nerd?_

“What are we supposed to be looking for in this building?”

“I don’t know. Anything that pings the sensor.”

“How good is your sensor?”

“It isn’t. I’m working off an incomplete profile. I’ll have something better by tomorrow.”

“So what, you just want to wander around?”

“You have a better idea?”

“The Number Hunter is a duelist, right? He’s probably not hanging out down here. We should check the lounges and the dressing rooms.”

“You know where they are?”

Ryoga sighed. “Fourth and sixteenth floors.”

There was a service elevator down the hall, and Kaito swiped his key card again. He wondered if his father was tracking his usage; he had to assume that their security was good and no one else was.

The fourth floor had obviously been decorated by Heartland: deep green carpet, pale pink walls, sunny yellow doors, and plaid accents. It was pleasantly cool inside, and empty. Kaito tried to remember when the Regionals would start, when the Nationals were. He hadn’t been keeping track of any dueling tournaments that weren’t giving him Numbers.

He glanced at Ryoga. “It’s quiet.”

“Four months until Regionals start.” He pointed. “Men’s dressing rooms are down there.”

He’d been alright in the service corridors, maybe because they looked so much like headquarters, but now Kaito could see the sweat beading on Ryoga’s forehead. His fingers kept twitching, and he walked with his shoulders around his ears.

But he wasn’t shaking or crying, so Kaito let him lead them past two hideous gilt-edged mirrors and to a door labeled Green Room 1. It was locked.

Ryoga produced a hair pin from his sleeve.

“I can do it.” Kaito glanced at Ryoga’s trembling fingers. “Move.”

He was carrying a small toolkit. Kaito pulled out the thinnest of his screwdrivers and inserted it into the lock. He wiggled it around.

Behind him Ryoga was snickering into his sleeve.

Kaito jiggled the screwdriver harder. Something cracked loudly inside the doorknob. He tried it; the door opened.

They entered. Kaito pulled the door shut behind them and looked around the room; there was a mirror, a small bathroom, a bench, tacky green plaid wallpaper. Four or five hangers hung from a bar on the wall. It was otherwise an empty dressing room.

Kaito’s sensor wasn’t picking up on anything. There were no cabinets in the room, no boxes, no place to hide anything. It was a worthless place.

And he’d dented his favorite screwdriver. Ryoga was staring at the bench like it was holding a knife to his throat, eye huge. Kaito could hear him breathing. He reached for the doorknob; best to get out of there, he thought.

The doorknob did not turn.

He tried again.

It was locked.

“It’s locked,” Kaito said. “Sit down.”

A thought had just occurred to him. He sat down on the bench himself. Ryoga slowly, warily followed suit. Kaito wanted to let him out — he could just take the knob off the door from this side, there were visible screws — but then Ryoga wouldn’t have to deal with his obvious fear.

“You’re afraid.”

“I’m not.”

“Your hands are shaking.”

Maybe it was cruel, what he was doing, but no crueler than what had already been done to him. And Kaito needed him, and Ryoga would be more likely to survive if he could cope with the fear.

“Shut up.”

“Tell me about the Hunter.”

“What?”

“Tron,” Kaito said, “gave us this assignment. Tell what you’re thinking.”

For a moment, confusion overpowered Ryoga’s fear. “Why?”

“I need to know it isn’t you.”

Ryoga stared at him. “….fine. Tron — Tron gave us three things, right? That card, the energy thing, and that whoever made that phone call is a Numbers Hunter we don’t know about.”

“Or connected with him.”

“The card doesn’t match anything in the database, so there’s nothing we can do with it, unless we run into the duelist using it.” His voice cracked. Ryoga took a deep breath. “The energy thing is your problem. But the Hunter —”

Kaito waited. Ryoga glanced around the room again; had he confronted IV somewhere like this? Decided to cheat in the dressing room? Was any reminder of the Nationals too painful for him now? Kaito realized, dimly, that he genuinely wanted to know.

“He’s not using your Photon Mode. No soulless bodies. And if he were using Barian tech, they wouldn’t need us.” Ryoga closed his eyes briefly.

“Which leaves you.”

“I was almost caught in that raid!”

“Almost,” Kaito said. “And you knew about that place beforehand.”

“Goddamnit, Kaito, watch the fucking video then. Tell me if you think I’d have done that if I knew —”

“Fine. It isn’t you.”

Kaito swallowed down his shame. But Ryoga was so distracted by his anger that the color had come back into his face. He looked less afraid, less likely to bolt or cry, and that was good enough. He pulled out the toolkit again and removed the knob.

The door swung open. The hallway felt enormous after their brief confinement; Kaito breathed deeply. Beside him, Ryoga had his arms crossed over his chest.

“What was that about?”

“You stop being frightened when you’re angry.” Kaito glanced around. Suddenly, he agreed with Ryoga’s previous assessment. Searching the Stadium on foot was stupid. And they still had to meet quota. “Let’s hunt.”

“Fine,” Ryoga said.

They started walking back to the elevator. The silence was almost oppressive when he spoke up again.

“Rio came to see me,” he said. “That dressing room was the last place I saw her before.”

Kaito thought of the summer house, and finding Haruto sprawled still as death across the grass. He understood.

+++++

“I don’t understand,” Durbe said finally.

He hated having to admit that to Vector.

This whole...operation on Earth had been Vector’s to start with. It was distasteful, and dishonorable, and if Durbe wasn’t offended enough to not do it, he was bothered enough that he couldn’t enjoy it. Vector presented the whole thing only after he’d set it up, like it was his gift to Durbe. Like it was proof of his loyalty.

So Durbe had immediately suspected something else was at play. Mizael agreed with him. Alit agreed with him. Gilag agreed with him.

They had no proof of it. And Vector’s plan was working. The Numbers were pouring in.

And since Vector had been right so far, now Durbe had to listen to him whenever he made a new suggestion. Vector was always completely slimy about it, too, and it was grating.

“Couldn’t we --” Alit growled. “Couldn’t we just...kill him?” It pained him to have to say it. Durbe respected that about Alit. He was better at hanging onto his principles.

Or rather, he had principles that Durbe didn’t.

“Of course we could.” Vector rolled his eyes dramatically. “But then, won’t Astral World just send more and more messengers? Simply killing the Emissary gets rid of him.”

“And that’s bad...because?” Durbe asked.

“We can’t learn anything from him if he’s dead,” Vector said. “And it doesn’t send the right kind of message, Durbe.”

“What message could be clearer than a dead body?” Gilag asked.

“If we kill him, they’ll send more.” Vector’s eyes gleamed. “If we break him, they won’t.”

Durbe glanced at Mizael, whose arms were folded across his chest. Mizael disapproved of the entire operation. He spent most of his time in Barian World; he disliked Earth. If the legendary god Don Thousand himself had risen and commanded Mizael to participate, Durbe suspected Mizael would duel him rather than cooperate.

He, too, was more honorable than Durbe was. And perhaps less effective. But he probably slept better.

Durbe wasn’t even sure what Vector was doing with the Astral Emissary, if he was honest. He just knew Vector had found him and he was still alive.

“Fine. But don’t drag it out, Vector,” Durbe said. “We’re running out of time.”

“Yes, sir, Durbe.” Vector saluted. “I’ll get right to it.”


	9. Ghosts Of The Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Family Day in Heartland City. The past is on everyone's mind.

“Where have you two been?” Kaito looked up as the lab doors opened. Orbital 7 rolled in, followed by Ryoga, each of them carrying a bright pink bakery box. He checked the time, and shut off the monitor. He hadn’t made much progress so far; he and Ryoga had ruled out a few sites and payphones between the two of them over the past two days, but there was still a lot left to do.

Faker hadn’t called him. Kaito sighed; he was tired, he thought, of wandering around the city blindly, looking for someone or something that he might not recognize even if he saw it.

“Kaito-sama…” Orbital 7 held out the box to him. “Happy Family Day!”

Kaito started. He’d forgotten entirely.

He glanced at Ryoga, who held up the box and grumbled. “Caramel,” he said.

So Orbital had taken Ryoga to have him buy the -- Kaito opened the box to reveal an assortment of brightly colored macaroons -- gift. Kaito couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a macaroon; his mother had loved them. He’d lost his taste for them after she left.

They smelled delicious.

_God, is it Family Day already?_ Soon it would be Haruto’s birthday. Time was passing so quickly.

He set the box in a drawer and slammed it shut. “You shouldn't have bothered.”

“But Kaito-sama --”

“Shut it.” Ryoga shoved the second box into his hand. “What happened to that thing you were doing?” He pointed at the computer.

Kaito checked inside the box. It was filled with tiny wrapped caramels.

“It’s worthless without more data. I think the energy signal pulses.” Kaito brought up a map of Barianite energy and fast forwarded it to show the progression of energy over several days. “If you look at the clubs, where the amount of Barianite is fairly stable, you can see the signal goes in and out. If the energy signature of our Hunter is the same way, we won’t be able to see the whole picture without progressive satellite data.”

“Wasn’t V supposed to handle that?”

“V is supposed to do a lot of things.” Inwardly, Kaito was surprised that it was taking this long himself. V had to know stonewalling their investigation would make it harder on them, and he couldn’t take the credit if nothing was ever discovered. It was odd.

Then again, he was assuming that he could still understand the way V thought, when he’d failed so bitterly before…

_“Happy Family Day, Kaito.”_

_“Chris.” Kaito turned away from his laboratory bench. “You’re here?”_

_“Where else would I be?”_

_“With your brothers, of course.”_

_“I hope to be with them soon enough.” Chris smiled. “But for now...you and Haruto will do, I suppose.” His smile took the sting off the words; Father was still busy, but to have Chris was…_

“We need to hunt.” Ryoga leaned against the console, arms crossed.

“Soon.” Kaito glanced up at the Barianite map. “I’ll find something.”

Ryoga’s phone rang. He jumped -- he wasn’t used to his new phone, apparently -- and yanked it out of his pocket. He held it up to his ear.

“What?” Ryoga didn’t look happy about whatever he was hearing. “He’s not *my* brother -- shut the fuck up -- fine, I’ll tell him, asshole.” He hung up.

Kaito stared. He had a sudden, horrible feeling. “Who was that?”

“Heartland,” Ryoga said darkly. “He wants me to go get Haruto and bring him over to the Burnt Heart for his appointment.”

“Heartland isn’t the one in charge of Haruto’s treatment.”

“He told me you’re supposed to be meeting with III right now while I take him.”

“No.” Kaito grabbed his coat off the back of a chair and slid it on.

“You want me to go meet with III?” 

It was tempting, but Kaito remembered how Ryoga’s last meeting with IV had gone. Admittedly III wasn’t much of a threat, but he wouldn’t take any chances.

“Just come with me. I won’t risk Droite or Gauche or anyone else trying to snatch Haruto.”

_How dare he,_ Kaito thought as he stormed out of the lab. He barely noticed Orbital 7 fussing behind him, or Ryoga sliding into step to his right; all he could think about was how Heartland had said he was borrowing Haruto, like he were a wrench or a pack of bolts. Wasn’t it enough that Haruto was sick, so sick no doctor on Earth could treat him?

The doors sealed shut behind him. Kaito stopped only to check the sensor array -- if the mysterious Hunter came near here, he’d know -- before he started walking.

He was still carrying the box of caramels; his grip was so tight that he was leaving indentations in the cardboard.

Would Haruto even remember the caramels? He had forgotten so much already. Even Kaito’s attempts at jogging his memory with holographic immersion wasn’t working anymore.

“Where is he?”

“What?”

Ryoga sighed. “Haruto. Where is he?”

“Faker moves him every few days.” Kaito glanced again at the date. “He’s staying at one of our facilities in North Hill.”

“By himself?”

“He’s...a self-sufficient child.” _And he blows things up._ “Someone checks in on him every few days to move him. He’s under twenty-four hour surveillance.”

“Didn’t Heartland already steal him once?”

“Droite and Gauche won’t have access codes anymore.” Kaito held up his access card. “Just me, now, and whoever my father sends to look in on him.”

“Can’t he just stay with you?”

“No.”

 Ryoga glared at him. “Why?”

“Because,” Kaito said through clenched teeth, “I don’t want him to watch me die.”

Ryoga flinched. Whether at the thought of Kaito dying, or Haruto’s pain, or some memory Kaito had awakened in him, Kaito didn’t know. Ryoga’s sister was as close to death as anyone could be while still breathing, after all. And he held himself responsible.

Maybe that was why Kaito was getting attached to him. He knew Ryoga, at least, was no threat to Haruto. Even if he turned out to be a threat to Kaito.

The neighborhood of North Hill was south of the marina, less expensive than downtown, more expensive than the sprawl of homes at the edge of the city. Kaito cut around the edge of the neighborhood, keeping to the more crowded commercial areas where he was less likely to be noticed or remembered.

The facility Kaito had described was really a home, though, modified and insulated and renovated so that it could withstand one of Haruto’s attacks if needed. It looked like any of the other homes on the block -- in fact, it was the most common model in this subdivision -- but the front door was reinforced enough to withstand a bomb blast and the windows were all made of bulletproof glass.

Kaito checked to make sure no one was watching before he grabbed Ryoga’s arm and strode up to the house. Ryoga elbowed him in the side, but he stood back while Kaito unlocked the door, held his eye up to the peephole that was really a retinal scanner in disguise, and waited.

The doorknob read his handprint and his body temperature. The security system beeped once in recognition, and the door clicked open.

“As I said,” Kaito said, pulling Ryoga in behind him so the security system wouldn’t read him as an enemy, “He’s safe here. Orbital, keep watch outside.”

“Yes, Kaito-sama!”

Kaito nodded, and closed the door gently behind him.

“Hmph.” Ryoga was looking around. Kaito followed his gaze; there was a bowl in the sink, a box of cereal left out on the counter. He could hear the faint sound of voices from the next room and the hum of a machine.

Someone must have arrived to administer the treatment. Kaito hadn’t sat through an appointment with Haruto since he started hunting. He had no idea who his father had hired, or how.

He moved to put the cereal away, and Ryoga held out his arm to stop him.

“Don’t,” he said. “It’s not worth it, just -- get it over with.”

“Do you have any idea what you’re talking about?”

“Afraid he’ll look at you and get disillusioned?” Ryoga shoved him towards the living room. “Go.”

Kaito went.

As he got closer, he could hear the voices more clearly. One was Haruto’s, flat as usual, and the other was...the other was…

“Fath-- Faker?”

Faker didn’t even look up at him. He was adjusting the settings on the machine hooked up to Haruto’s chest with electrodes with one hand, and petting Haruto’s hair with the other. He looked like he’d aged ten years in the three months since Kaito had last seen him; the lines in his face were deeper, the blonde in his hair had begun to fade to grey, and his skin looked paper thin.

“Kaito.”

He looked small. Kaito always imagined his father looking down at him, but now that their positions were reversed, it was disconcerting.

“Yes,” Kaito said, because he couldn’t say anything else, not in front of his brother. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t.” Even the sound of Faker’s voice was tired. He squeezed Haruto’s tiny shoulder. “Son, are you comfortable?”

“Yes, Father.” Haruto stared blankly at the ceiling. “Is today Family Day?”

“That’s right,” Kaito said. “You remembered.”

He couldn’t breathe as Haruto smiled very faintly. “Did you come to visit me, Nii-san?”

“Of course I did.” Kaito moved to sit at his brother’s side, to touch him, but Faker held up a hand to stop him. “What?”

“Let’s step out for a moment. I need to speak to you.” He gestured to an open door behind them; Kaito could see the glow of a screen through the doorway. It was presumably Faker’s office. “I’m sure Ryoga can watch Haruto for a few moments?”

Faker met Kaito’s eyes.

He understood that what his father was asking: could Ryoga be trusted? Stupid, Kaito thought, as if he would have brought Ryoga here if the answer was anything but *yes.*

“Ryoga, sit with Haruto.”

“What?” Ryoga squawked. Kaito glared at him. “Whatever.”

“This way.” Faker led Kaito through the open door, into the office, and closed the door behind them. It was a small room, with an outdated and inadequate desktop PC, a black bookshelf covered in introductory science texts, and a framed photograph with the stock photograph left in.

_A decoy, then._

“We’ll go down to the lab. It would be best if Haruto doesn’t overhear.”

“Can he really hear us in here?”

“It’s possible. He has moments of hypersensitivity to sound, to light, to touch. Sometimes his abilities are far beyond what we would expect.”

Faker sounded so clinical.

“He suffers, even with the treatments.”

And then he didn’t.

Kaito swallowed and watched as his father tapped out a password on the dusty keyboard -- a long string of numbers, letters, and symbols, thankfully -- and one of the walls slid down into the floor revealing a staircase that went down into darkness. 

The air drifting in through the secret entrance was cold and smelled like engine oil. The stairs were slippery, and Kaito held onto the wall and ignored the sharp pain in his chest as they descended.

Everything went dark as the door behind them slid shut again. Then with a buzz, the overhead lighting flickered on. Kaito stared at the back of Faker’s head; he looked almost green in the fluorescent light.

The staircase led into a real lab. It looked much like his own, but for the cups of coffee strewn about (Kaito couldn’t have caffeine). There were two stools at the center lab bench, and Faker took one. Kaito sat beside him. He realized he was still clutching the box of caramels, that he had forgotten all about it. He let it go.

Then he picked it up again, just to have something to hide the shaking in his fingers.

The treatments were getting less effective, and he was approaching the point where raising the dosage would be toxic. He supposed he could ask Faker about it.

No, he would never admit that.

“I understand,” Faker said slowly, reaching out to toy with a test tube he’d plucked from the drying rack, “that you and Ryoga have undertaken a mission for Tron.”

“For the Barians.”

“Of course. He would say that to you. And in order to complete that mission, he provided you with certain information, and told you it was linked to this police raid.”

“That’s right,” Kaito said.

“You must stop the investigation. Immediately.”

“What? No, I --”

“Do you think Tron is asking you to do it because it’s convenient?” Faker rounded on him. He seized Kaito by the shoulders. “Understand this, Kaito! If he is asking you to do it, over his own sons, then it is because it will lead to your death. This investigation is dangerous.”

For a moment, Kaito was too shocked to speak. His father had not touched him in over a year.

“I asked Chris to protect you, to keep information from you, but you’ve been persistent. I suppose from you, I could expect nothing less.”

“You asked V?” Kaito shook his head. He couldn’t fixate on that now. “What do you mean about the Barians?”

“I mean that the Barians are...not a unified force. They have their individual agendas. And this person you are looking for is dangerous.”

“How do you know that, Father?”

Faker fell silent. He stared out, into space, into some place in the past Kaito did not know.

“I had hoped to keep this from you,” he said quietly. “But if revealing it will protect you, Kaito...it was I who opened the doorway into another world. It was I who made first contact with the Barians."

It was Faker who had made Haruto sick. “You.”

“Yes. Me.” Faker closed his eyes. “I was trying to save Haruto from one illness, and instead I did him greater harm than I could have ever imagined.”

“And now, you want to tell me what to do?”

“I want to save the lives of my sons. Even if one of them is too stubborn to heed me.” Faker sighed heavily. “Kaito, forget the investigation. Let the Barians find this Hunter on their own. Finish collecting the Numbers as quickly as you can, before they start to spread outside the city.”

“What do you mean?” Kaito had never imagined his father was so informed.

“It’s safer that you don’t know. Just know that no matter what Tron tells you, the Barians’ first and foremost concern is gathering all the Numbers. If you can do that, they will leave Heartland City. Or at least, they will leave us alone."

“Why would the Barians abandon useful tools?”

“For what they have planned,” Faker said, “they won’t want us involved. Trust me.”

“Trust you.”

“Please.”

“I can’t.” Kaito closed his eyes, to block out the image of Faker’s worn and weary face. “If the Barians are planning something, I want to know. If it has to do with why they made Haruto sick, I need to know.”

“Kaito…” Faker trailed off. He laid his hand on Kaito’s arm. “You are too much like me.”

“Am I?”

“You prize knowledge far too highly."

He produced a flash drive from inside a pocket in his jumpsuit and held it out.

“What’s this?” Kaito picked it up. It looked perfectly ordinary.

“The call log you asked for. And satellite imaging of the city, calibrated for that specific energy signature, over the past two months.”

“I thought you wanted me to stay out of it,” Kaito muttered, tucking the flash drive into his pocket. “But you’re giving this to me?”

“Orbital 7 is the only one who can read it. Don’t try to plug it in anywhere else; it would be dangerous for anyone to know you had this. Have him do the reconnaissance.”

Kaito was offended that his father didn’t think he could handle the most basic of security measures, but he let it pass. Here, in his palm, were answers. Finally, he would be able to know something about the monsters that ruled over his city, that had hurt his brother, that were using his entire family.

His _entire_ family…

“Father?”

Faker smiled wryly. “Yes, Kaito?”

“What exactly are the Barians having you do?”

“They’re having me build something to store the Numbers.” Faker shrugged. “They haven't told me exactly what it’s for.”

“But you have suspicions.”

“It’s sitting in a lead-lined sub basement, and it can set off a Geiger counter on the first floor,” Faker said. “Yes, I have suspicions. Do not come to Heartland Tower if you can avoid it.”

“Understood.” Kaito slid the flash drive into an inside pocket of his shirt. It was warm, even through the fabric. Suddenly he was even less eager to hunt than usual; he wanted to rush back to the lab, make Orbital decrypt the flash drive, and get to work.

+++++

Haruto was staring at him.

Ryoga stared back. He wasn’t sure whether that was a good idea; people generally didn’t like it when he stared at them, and he thought children were usually easily frightened, but Haruto was a weird kid. Whether it was because of his space cancer, or because he was related to Kaito, Ryoga didn’t know.

Haruto didn’t blink much. Ryoga’s eyes were starting to water.

He slumped back against the sofa behind him, feigning boredom so that Haruto wouldn't suspect he’d just beaten Ryoga in a staring contest. It was a nice house, this place. Asaya lived in a neighborhood like this. She had the same kind of ceiling fan as this room did.

Ryoga swallowed. He was not going to think about her. He had stopped thinking about her when she --

_I should talk to the kid._

“Hey.”

“Hello.” Haruto tugged at the electrode in the center of his chest. “I’m cold.”

Ryoga shrugged off his jacket and threw it over him. He tucked it awkwardly under Haruto’s chin, wondering how old a kid had to be before that was embarrassing -- at seven, he and Rio had been insisting they were too big for it -- trying to keep from interfering with the machine.

It was a big black box with several lights and switches. The screen was showing some kind of graph. Like most of the technology he’d seen since becoming a Numbers Hunter, he had no idea what it was or what it was doing.

Either the Tenjos had really advanced tech, or Ryoga was even more out of touch than he thought.

“Are you my brother’s friend?”

Ryoga jumped. The kid was too quiet. “I --” He scrambled. “Yeah.”

it didn’t really matter if it was true. The kid had a space disease; Ryoga was allowed to tell him white lies.

“That’s good. Now that Nii-san is sick, he needs someone to take care of him.”

“Right,” Ryoga agreed. It was true; Kaito was useless and did need someone to take care of him.

“I can’t do it, because I’m sick right now.”

“Look, I’ll look after him now, and when you get better, you can look after him.” Ryoga offered Haruto his hand. “Deal?”

Haruto stared at his hand blankly. A full minute passed.

“...you’re supposed to shake it.”

“Oh.” Haruto weakly gripped his hand with his fingers.

Was this a rich kid thing, Ryoga wondered, or was this part of Haruto’s disease? Did he forget things? The doctors had told him, when Rio’s coma persisted, that she might not wake up the same person if she woke up. The oxygen deprivation could have fried her brain. What was he going to do, they’d asked him, if she woke up and she was someone else?

He had never really found an answer to that question.

“What do you and Kaito do together?”

Haruto considered. “Nii-san tells me stories.”

“What kind of stories?”

“Sad stories.” Haruto tugged Ryoga’s jacket closer to himself. “When he tells them to me, he cries.”

“...that’s dumb.” Ryoga shook his head. “Hey, you wanna learn how to pick locks?”

“We don’t have any locks.”

“Hang on.” Ryoga craned his neck. Were there knives in the kitchen? “I’ll get a doorknob.”

There was in fact a knife block in the kitchen, stocked with knives, and better yet, a set of screwdrivers in one of the drawers. Ryoga hunted around until he found an ordinary doorknob, one that didn’t seem to be hooked into the security system, and got to work.

It came off easily.

He came back and sat down beside Haruto, who was struggling to sit up. Ryoga grabbed a pillow off the couch and tucked it behind him. He adjusted the jacket around him, so that he’d stay warm, and then handed him the doorknob.

“Lock it.”

Haruto pressed the button on the lock. “Like this?”

“Yeah. Here.” Ryoga dug out the hairpins he kept hooked on the front of his shirt. “Take this.”

Haruto accepted the pin. He stuck it into the hole on the other side of the doorknob and wiggled it around.

“Just try it out. See if you can get it to click.”

Haruto fiddled with the pin for several minutes. He was focused, Ryoga would give him that; he wasn’t making much progress at first, but he didn’t get bored. Ryoga could see the moment he got the hang of it, and began working on the innards of the lock in earnest.

The button popped back out. Haruto held out the unlocked doorknob. “I did it,” he said.

He didn’t sound excited, or even look excited, but he held out the knob expectantly until Ryoga took it, and patted him on the head gingerly. 

“Great.” He looked around. Would Kaito kill him for teaching his brother criminal skills? Could he successfully argue that Haruto probably needed them? “What do you know about self-defense?”

Five minutes later, he had found a stack of paper and assembled a rough outline of a human body by combining all the sheets of paper into one huge diagram. He was showing Haruto the best places to stab using the cleaver; Haruto imitated him using the butter knife.

“The big artery in the leg is called the femoral artery,” Haruto explained. “What if you stab that one?”

Ryoga winced. Who had taught this kid anatomy? Why hadn’t anyone taught him anatomy, for that matter? Ryoga had been in knife fights; it would have been useful. “They die, but it’s hard to reach. Neck and body are easier.”

“What are you doing,” Kaito said. He and Faker were standing in the doorway of the room they’d been talking in, with identical horrified expressions. They hadn't looked much alike earlier, but now Ryoga could see the family resemblance clearly.

“You said to look out for him! I’m looking out for him.”

“Put the knife down,” Kaito said in a strangled voice. “I was gone five minutes --”

“I like him better than Chris,” Haruto said seriously. “Nii-san? What’s that?”

Kaito looked down at the box he was carrying. It was all crumpled. “Orbital brought you some caramels for Family Day.” He knelt down beside Haruto and set down the box. “Here.”

He tossed Ryoga his coat and shrugged off his own. Faker pulled off the electrodes, which left dark red marks on Haruto’s arms and chest, and Kaito swaddled him into his jacket. Ryoga slowly put on his jacket again.

Haruto solemnly offered Kaito a caramel.

Kaito looked like he was going to cry. Even Faker was blinking too much.

Ryoga stood up. No one said anything; he supposed, on today of all days, it wasn't surprising that these three only had eyes for each other. He walked slowly back to the front door, and opened it.

He half expected an alarm to go off, but none did. Orbital 7 was standing by the front steps, rolling back and forth, agitated as usual.

“Is Kaito-sama finished? Is Haruto-sama alright?”

“They’re fine,” Ryoga said. He sat down on the steps. The sun was out; it was at least warm. He had dim memories of warm days like this, of being outside and being happy. He leaned back against the brick, enjoying the heat. Orbital had woken him up early, insisting he go to a bakery and buy an incredibly specific macaroon assortment and two pounds of caramel.

Ryoga hadn’t protested, more out of sheer curiosity than anything else. He hadn’t really understood why Orbital wanted to by Kaito, who was kind of an asshole to him, a gift.

But, he thought, being someone’s family, and being kind to them, were not always the same thing.

“They want you inside,” he said. “Hurry up. I’ll keep watch.”

Orbital’s head bobbed up and down in excitement. “Roger!”

He zoomed up the stairs, through the heavy steel door, and was gone. Ryoga watched him go, something like longing and loneliness heavy in his throat, and turned back to watch the street. He doubted anything would happen today, here. But he watched, just in case.

+++++

“Eh? My dad?”

Rei nodded. “That’s right. I heard your dad’s name. He was involved with the Barians somehow.”

“But that’s impossible. My dad disappeared years ago, way before any of this stuff happened.”

Yuuma had followed Rei’s directions to an abandoned gym. Rei had been sitting on the balance bars, and Yuuma had climbed up to join him. His legs swung aimlessly as Rei talked. Yesterday’s meeting had been a bust -- Rei had never showed and he’d texted Yuuma later to tell him he’d been attacked and was laying low -- but Yuuma had hoped today would be better. Astral was still mad at him. And today was...he needed a distraction.

It was impossible. His dad had gone missing years ago. He couldn’t be involved with the Barians.

“The Barians are thousands of years old. And they’re sneaky. They might have gotten to your dad before they ever appeared in this city.”

Yuuma shuddered. “But why? He was an explorer. He wasn't even…” It was painful for Yuuma to admit it aloud. “He wasn’t a top duelist…”

“Then that’s a clue!” Rei tugged on his arm so hard he nearly fell of the bars. Yuuma scrambled to grab on while Rei bounced. “If we can find out what your dad knew, we’ll know something about the Barians!”

“I guess…”

“Great! Yuuma, did your dad keep any records?”

Yuuma nodded. “He wrote everything down. I’ve got all his journals at home.”

“Let’s go now.”

“No, I can’t -- my sister can’t meet you.”

“Why not? She won’t know who I am.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“I see...I really did want to meet her, though.” Rei looked sad.

Yuuma patted his arm. “I’m sorry, but I have to protect her right now. Maybe after this is all over, okay?”

Rei wiped at his glistening eyes. “okay...call me if you find anything.”

“I will,” Yuuma promised, relieved Rei wasn't making a fuss. He felt bad that Rei was so lonely, but it was still hard sometimes to handle him. He rubbed at the Key. Still nothing from Astral.

He dropped down off the bar and landed on the mat below heavily. “Bye, Rei!”

“Bye, Yuuma! I’ll keep looking for Barianite rings!”

Yuuma waved half-heartedly as he fled.

His father had been an explorer, and an adventurer. His background, as far as Yuuma knew, had been in archeology, and he’d been more interested in fieldwork than in academics. His mother, a linguist fascinated by ancient languages (and, Yuuma thought with a smile, the brains of the operation), had been the one who’d handled the publishing and the boring stuff.

His parents had traveled all over the world, going into places where others were too afraid or too inexperienced to go, chasing wild hypotheses about the ancient world and coming back with treasure. Kazuma had loved the travel, and the wild corners of the world; his favorite thing, Yuuma remembered, was to stand at the top of a mountain and see the world stretch out below him.

_”Do you see the horizon, Yuuma?” Kauzma pointed at the sun setting out in the distance, over the deep green valley._

_Yuuma squinted at the orange sky. “Yeah, but it’s so far away.”_

_Kazuma laughed. “That’s true! But you have to aim for things you can’t reach, Yuuma. You won’t ever reach your dreams by choosing to do the easy thing.”_

_“So if I wanna be a good duelist,” Yuuma asked slowly brow furrowed in concentration, “I should…beat the top duelist in my class?”_

_“No.” Kazuma picked him up, and set him on his shoulders. “You should aim to beat the top duelist in the world.”_

_“That’s right.” Yuuma stretched out his arms, reaching for the sun as it sank down below the treeline. This high up, the wind was cold and strong. The air tasted different than it did back home. “Someday, I’m going to be Duel Champion!”_

“Dad…” He hadn’t thought about that dream for a while. With everything that was happening right now, he hadn’t had time to focus on the things that were far away.

Sometimes he thought that Kazuma had left him an incomplete deck deliberately, to give Yuuma a reason to keep going. Sometimes he thought that it was cruel, that his dad was gone and all Yuuma had were old pots and worn cards.

He was home. The light in Akari’s office was off, and her bike was gone. Yuuma checked to make sure his grandmother was asleep — when had he last talked to her — and found Obomi quietly charging in her room.

He left her a fresh bottle of metal polish and a washcloth before walking down the hall to the closed door at the end. It was the master bedroom.

It wasn’t locked. It didn’t need to be. None of them ever went in there.

He got dust on his hands as he turned the knob.

Yuuma looked around; everything looked smaller, but otherwise it was as he remembered it. The bed against the wall, the covers turned down and the pillows fluffed. The huge family portrait with from when Yuuma was two; Akari was yanking on Mirai’s leg and Yuuma was trying to escape Kazuma’s arms and his grandmother stood between them trying to smile.

There were bottles on the vanity. He picked through them; there was his mother’s perfume (it smelled as he remembered it), two deodorants, and beard styling gel. Yuuma reached out to wipe the dust off the mirror.

He blinked back tears. His reflection looked so alone…

“Right. Dad’s journals…”

Yuuma knew that they existed; his dad had written them right in front of him. He’d even asked Yuuma questions and recorded his answers. But they weren’t stored in the attic, with the rest of Kazuma’s things, or in Akari’s office (which had been his parents’ study before).

So that left this room.

He checked each of the drawers in the dresser. They were all empty; that was right, Yuuma thought, he remembered people coming over to box everything up. There was nothing under the bed, and nothing in the nightstand except a glasses case containing a pair of his mother’s broken reading glasses.

Yuuma was pretty sure he’d broken this pair trying to kattobingu off the couch.

He slammed the drawer shut and went over to the closet. It was filled floor to ceiling with cardboard boxes, all labeled in a crooked hand he didn’t recognize. Two of them were labeled _Journals._

They were also the ones at the bottom of the stack, so Yuuma left the bedroom to get the stepladder out of the garage, and then spent ten long minutes moving boxes of his parents’ possessions out of the closet. The boxes with the journals were heavy; he dragged them a few feet away from the closet and sighed.

He looked around at the mess. This was his parents’ lives, reduced to boxes and dust and silence. He swallowed heavily. He didn’t want to do this, not today of all days.

_“Yuuma!”_

_“I’m coming!”_

_“Hurry up, Mom and Dad are waiting!”_

_Yuuma finally found his orange t-shirt and yanked it on. He grabbed his empty deck case, slapped it on his belt, and rand down the stairs._

_“I’m here!”_

_Akari was standing by the front door, carrying her camera case under one arm and tapping her foot impatiently. “Come on! We’re getting late!”_

_Yuuma ran past her out the door. His father was leaning out of the driver’s seat window, waving at them to get in; he crammed himself into the backseat and buckled his seatbelt hurriedly. Akari got in beside him and set the camera case between them._

_“Everyone in?”_

_“Where’s Haru?”_

_“At her sister’s place.”_

_Yuuma pressed himself against the window in excitement. It was Family Day, and they were going on an adventure: the Heartland Future Exhibition was opening today, and Kazuma had gotten them all tickets. Yuuma had seen the flyers pasted all over the city. For three days, Heartland Amusement Park would have the world’s best and brightest technology on display. Flying cars! A preview of the new, upgraded citywide AR system! D-gazers! Robots!_

_Traffic was heavy throughout the city, and Kazuma turned into a parking garage before long. “We’ll walk it from here,” he said._

_Yuuma put on his backpack, in which he had his stuffed Rainbow Kuriboh (he was not a baby, he just…needed it), two bottle of water, money, and some snacks in sandwich bags. Akari shouldered her camera case. Mirai took his hand._

_“Careful crossing the street,” she warned. “Here we go!”_

_There were people everywhere. Yuuma looked around as they walked, and nearly wandered into the street in excitement more than once. There were people having duels right in the street! There were people in costumes! There were people setting up stands and selling bright green desserts!_

_They all stopped to buy sour apple cupcakes before getting into line. The gates of Heartland Amusement Park had been painted silver and wound with lights for the occasion._

_“Are we gonna meet up with Kotori?”_

_“Later,” Kazuma said as his ticket was stamped by an attendant. He put it and Yuuma’s ticket in his wallet. “Here.” He snapped a wristband onto Yuuma’s wrist. “Ready?_

_“Yeah!”_

_“Then here we go!”_

_It was better than Yuuma could have dreamed._

_There were games, lots of games, and there were prizes to win. Most of it was using the newest version of the AR systems. Yuuma lined up eagerly with a crowd of other kids to get his D-gazer upgraded, and then charged in._

_There was a whack-a-mon, where he got a huge inflatable mallet and ran around a field slapping down Duel Monsters when they poked their heads out of the ground. There was a promotion for the new Pokemon game where Yuuma got to be a real trainer, complete with holographic ball to throw, and catch Pokemon. There were places where he could do test duels against other kids, using famous decks from famous duelists._

_The new AR system was amazing, and Yuuma’s finger itched for a deck. He’d tried building different stuff, but he hadn’t found something really good yet. The colors of the AR were brighter, the noises louder, the monsters so real he could almost smell them…_

I wish I could meet a Duel Monster _, he thought idly, and then Akari was tugging him away from the AR exhibition by the hand._

_Akari wanted to do karaoke, so Yuuma stood in the background and cheered while she sang. Then she went off to take pictures, and Kazuma bought Yuuma a churro._

_He ate it while Kazuma consulted the map. “Yuuma, will you come check out the technology demonstrations with me?”_

_“Yeah! Can we see the flying car?”_

_The flying car wasn’t that exciting — they wouldn’t let Yuuma ride in it, which was disappointing — but there were other things. Yuuma tried out a prototype of a portable SR video game console, and watched as two women with accents demonstrated a tiny solar-powered microwave that was so light it cold fit in a backpack._

_Kazuma stayed for several minutes discussing the applicatiosn of the technology for camping with the presenters after, while Yuuma microwaved some sample popcorn and ate it._

_“And how are you enjoying the exhibition?”_

_Yuuma turned around. An old man with tall blonde hair and a dark suit was standing there, arms folded. Behind him was a blonde boy wearing suspenders and carrying what looked like half a robot._

_“It’s pretty cool,” Yuuma said. “Hey, is that your robot?”_

_“It’s just a prototype,” The boy said._

_“It’s very impressive.” Kauzma held out his hand. “Are you one of the presenters?”_

_“If only. No, I am Dr. Faker.”_

_“It’s an honor.” Kazuma shook Faker’s hand firmly. “You’re the man behind all this”_

_“I am interested in the future. Especially now.” Faker glanced down at the boy. “This is Kaito, my son. Kaito, say hello.”_

_“Hello,” Kaito said. “Can I go? I want to look at power tools for my nursery bot.”_

_“You’ll excuse him.” Faker said. “We’re expecting a second child. He’s very excited.”_

_Yuuma had started forward to introduce himself, but he stopped when Kaito turned around and walked off, his robot under his arm. Without a potential playmate, he shrugged and sat back down. Faker and his dad talked while he went through all the prizes he had one and tried to decide which ones he was going to show off to Kotori when they met up._

_“…finding other worlds.”_

_“You mean untouched ancient civilizations?”_

_“Not at all. I mean…another universe. A place that is completely separate from our planet, our space, our knowledge.”_

_“I don’t mean to be rude, but isn’t that rather farfetched?”_

_“I suppose it is. But in ruins all over the world, there are stories of things that came to us from somewhere else. It stands to reason, I think, that some of them are true.”_

_“You are a fascinating man, Kazuma Tsukumo. Here’s my card. I believe that we might be able to work together in the future?”_

_“Are you sure? I don’t know anything about the sciences.”_

_“I’m sure. I always need men with vision.”_

_Yuuma looked down at his bag. He’d gone through everything in it, and he was out of snacks. He poked Kazuma’s leg._

_“Hey, Dad? Can we go eat?”_

_Kazuma looked down at him and grinned. “Of course.” He nodded at Faker. “If you’ll excuse us. Yuuma’s a growing boy.”_

_They walked away, and passed several other stands where men and women were presenting their inventions, until they found a stand selling noodles. Yuuma sat and ate his bowl, yelping as the steaming broth burned his tongue, while Kazuma ate a bowl of rice beside him._

_“Hey, Dad?”_

_“Hm?”_

_“Do you think someday we’re gonna find that other world you always talk about?”_

_“I hope so, Yuuma.” Kazuma ruffled his hair. “For your sake, I hope so.”_

_“Happy Family Day, Dad.”_

_“Happy Family Day, son.”_

This was a holiday where he was supposed to be with his family.

Well, Yuuma thought, being with his father’s memories was better than being here alone. He cut the tape on the first box and began looking through the leather-bound volumes. Each was labeled with the range of dates it covered.

Yuuma frowned as he compared them. There were journals missing.

Shrugging, he picked up one at random, and opened. He inhaled the smell of the pages, and he began to read.

 


	10. Feelings Toward The Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryoga hate Family Day -- usually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for emotional and some physical abuse of a child.

The graves were empty.

But the tombstones, engraved Mirai Tsukumo and Kazuma Tsukumo, looked like any others. They were just two among many in this cemetery. It was crowded today, as people came to spend the sunset with the family they’d lost.

Akari tossed the wreath of lilies onto the grass.

“Well,” she said. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah.”

Yuuma sat beside her on the ground, legs folded. They’d forgotten to bring a blanket to sit on again this year. Maybe it was because it was the only time of year they bothered to visit.

After all, there were no bodies here. There were just stones, and weeping mourners, and the wind blowing through a willow tree nearby.

“I didn’t know if you were going to come with me this year.”

“Yeah.” Yuuma shrugged. He was too tired to defend himself. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” She ruffled his hair. “Just, no matter, what, promise me you’ll be _safe._ ”

“I will.”

“Mom and Dad…they warned me something like this might happen.”

“They did?!”

“Yeah…they made me promise to watch over you if something happened to you.” Akari leaned back on her arms, looking up at the sky instead of at the graves. The sky was clear and blue overhead, but the horizon was awash with pink and yellow and orange.

“You’re pretty good at that.”

“I try.”

Yuuma closed his eyes briefly. He was tired. He’d spent all day in his parents’ room, reading the journals, obsessing over the missing volumes, trying to decipher his father’s terrible handwriting. He hadn’t found much.

“Do you think they’re dead?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Sometimes I think it would be easier if they were.”

“Yeah.” Akari nodded, biting her lip. “Me too.”

Yuuma had found a map folded into one journal, with seven stars drawn on it marking coordinates in different parts of the world. He’d found a letter Kazuma had started to Mirai, full of crossed out portions, that revealed nothing but that Kazuma was worried about something that he didn’t feel comfortable saying in a letter. And he’d found, in an early volume, that his father had deliberately hidden or destroyed his own journals because they contained information he thought was dangerous.

He had more questions than he’d started out with now.

“Hey, Akari?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know what this is?”

He held out the folded map to her.

She unfolded it and held it up to the light. She frowned. “No idea. Did you check Dad’s journals?”

“I did, but some of them are missing.”

“Weird.” Akari flipped the map over. “Oh, hey. There’s something here…”

She pointed to a small symbol drawn in pencil in the top right corner. It was a logo, but Yuuma didn’t recognize it at first glance. It looked like a stylized capital T.

“What is that?”

Akari handed the map back to him. “Looks like the Tenjo Industries logo to me.”

“Tenjo Industries?”

“It’s a technology company. I think it’s based in Heartland, actually…” Akari trailed off. “I’ll look it up and let you know, okay?”

+++++

_“Ryoga,” Rio hissed. She poked him in the stomach._

_Ryoga held the pillow over his head and ignored her. He was tired, and it was early. He_ _’d stayed up past midnight scrubbing out the bathroom by hand._

_She kicked the bed; it creaked alarmingly._

_“Ryoga, come on,” she whispered. “It’s Family Day!”_

Like I could forget, _he thought. The new suit, black and white and stupid-looking, had been hanging from the closet door for the past week. He_ _’d been drilled on the names of Asaya’s parents and siblings and nieces and nephews so many times he’d practically dreamed about them._

She promised we could go to the cemetery today, _he thought._ She promised.

_He felt sick. And Rio poking him in the stomach wasn_ _’t helping._

_“What?”_

_“Are you getting up?”_

_“Yeah, yeah.” He sat up, and let the pillow drop into his lap. “I’m awake already. Go away.”_

_“Asa — Mom says get ready,” Rio said. She flounced out of the room, slamming the door behind her. She, Ryoga had seen, was already dressed, in pink with a matching bow in her hair._

_He dragged himself out of bed._ It’s just lunch with her family, _he thought._

_He put on the suit and told himself it wouldn_ _’t be that bad._

_*_

_It was worse._

_“I can’t believe this,” Asaya hissed as she hauled him out of the house by his ear. Ryoga squirmed, resisting the urge to twist and bite her or kick her; it hurt._

_“Ryoga always ruins everything,” Rio mumbled as she followed them. She was carrying both their duel disks in her arms; she opened the car door so that Asaya could shove him in._

_“The fighting at school. Your grades. Bullying your cousins —”_

_“They are not my cousins!”_

_“Disrespecting your mother!” Asaya ground her teeth loudly. “I didn’t have to take you in, you know —”_

_He_ _’d heard this rant a thousand times._

_“You’re_ not _my mom.”_

_Asaya slapped him._

_Rio gasped. That had never happened before._

_Ryoga stared at them both, refusing to let tears come to his eyes. It stung, but he_ _’d been punched at school and kicked in the dueling yards plenty. He wasn’t scared of her._

_“What am I even paying that therapist for,” Asaya said. She started the car. “Put your seat belts on. We’re going home.”_

_They drove in silence._

_*_

_He_ _’d missed his therapy appointment._

_Not that Ryoga cared. He didn_ _’t. And anyways Asaya hated the therapist and said she put too many ideas into Ryoga’s head._

_Confined to his room for his bad behavior, he sat on the bedroom floor and sorted his deck. Some of the cards were from his dad; he handled them carefully, running his fingers along the edges. Some of them were still faintly stained with blood._

Wanna learn how to duel, son?

Dad! You’re so bad at this!

We used to have real Family Day celebrations, _he thought,_ not these stupid parties where we have to get dressed up and not talk and hang out with those idiot kids. _Asaya_ _’s parents were mean and the other adults ignored him and one of those kids, one of those weaklings he’d thrashed in a duel in three turns, had said that well at least he still had his parents and —_

_His nose had made a satisfying cracking noise when Ryoga decked him._

_Ryoga stared at his cards, orange in the light of the setting sun, and scowled. His stomach was rumbling; he ignored it._

_Rio would sneak him food later. She always did._

_But the moon had come out by the time she knocked on his door._

_“Ryoga?”_

_“What?”_

_She hit him._

_“What was that for?”_

_“Why do you ruin everything?” she asked. She was crying, and Ryoga flinched. “If you don’t stop getting into trouble, we’ll get sent to an orphanage!”_

_“I’d rather be in an orphanage than here!”_

_“Why? Don’t you want to have a real family?” She wiped furiously at her face. “I don’t want to be an orphan!”_

_He had nothing to say to that. As far as Ryoga was concerned, they were orphans and always would be, no matter how many times Asaya insisted he call her Mom._

_“Whatever.”_

_Rio straightened._ _“We went to the cemetery without you.”_

_“What?”_

_“Maybe if you’re not grounded next year, you can come!” She left._

_Mom and Dad wouldn_ _’t break their promises._

_He was still hungry._

+++++

The sound of a car horn in the distance jerked him out of his reverie.

Ryoga shook his head and wiped away the beginnings of tears in his eyes. It was nothing. He was fine.

The sky was on fire when Kaito and Orbital 7 finally emerged from the safe house.

Ryoga turned around at the sound of the door opening, trying not to wince as he moved. He was sore and stiff from sitting on the steps for so long. He’d been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t thought to get up and move.

Kaito tapped Orbital 7 on the shoulder sharply. “Go. And be careful, Orbital.” It was the most concern Ryoga had ever seen him show for the robot.

Orbital straightened and saluted. “Yes, Kaito-sama!”

He shifted into his flying form and took off, until he was a dark shape overhead, and then then he was gone, hidden behind the skyscrapers. Kaito stood and watched him fly, arms folded across his chest. He was smiling.

He looked happy. Ryoga’s stomach twisted.

“You going to spend the night with them?” He jerked his head at the safehouse, where Haruto and Faker must have been waiting.

Kaito blinked at him. “Aren’t you going?”

“Where?” Did Kaito expect him to go hunt for him?

...actually, Ryoga admitted to himself, that wasn’t a bad idea. He’d already wasted so much time here, wallowing. He wished he could have forgotten what today was. Didn’t he have enough problems, without reminders of the past that he’d sworn to put away for good?

“To your sister.”

“Nn.” Ryoga searched for an excuse to cover the truth: seeing Rio today would just bring home for him how alone he truly was. And after seeing Haruto and Kaito interact, he didn’t think he could see her and not resent her, and he loved her too much to risk her hearing and remembering anything he said to her in anger while she was comatose. Rio could hold a grudge like no one’s business. “It’s too crowded there today. I’d get noticed.”

Kaito looked like he didn’t believe him, and was judging him. Ryoga swallowed down the anger; there was no point in being mad at Kaito for having a sibling who could walk and talk. Haruto was so much younger; Kaito wouldn’t understand, how complicated it was to have a twin.

“Have you been sitting here this entire time?”

“I was keeping watch.”

“I see.” Kaito looked at him oddly. Ryoga squirmed inwardly. He couldn’t bear to be pitied, not for this. “Haruto likes you.”

“That’s because I’m cooler than you are.”

Kaito spluttered. “That isn't -- you were giving him stabbing lessons!” He shook his head. “He wants to know when you’re going to visit again.”

“Oh.”

Kaito sat down beside him. He put his hands on his knees. “He doesn’t ask after people very often. He doesn’t...connect with them, as well as he used to to. But he liked you.”

Ryoga shrugged. He didn’t know how to respond to that. “He’s got shit taste.”

“Seems to run in the family,” Kaito mumbled under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Ryoga stared down at the ground, willing his face to stop burning. He was not blushing, he thought, and if he kept saying it, it would become true. God, Kaito was such a fucking -- this was why Ryoga hated Family Day. Because of emotions.

He had to be strong. It didn't matter if he was likable.

“So…” Kaito was looking at him. “There’s no one you want to see?”

“No.”

“Your foster mother --”

“ _No._ ”

Kaito sighed. “Your parents’ graves?”

“What would be the point?” Ryoga asked. Kaito’s expression clearly said he was about to argue with him about it. “Besides, I don’t know where they are.”

“You what?”

“I’ve haven't been there since the funeral -- don’t look at me like that!” Ryoga had to force his shoulders back down; he’d been hunching up defensively. “What’s the point, Kaito? They’re dead.”

“You don’t want to remember them?”

Ryoga touched the fang at his throat. “...no.”

He remembered them well enough. There was no need to sharpen the memories by revisiting them, to poison them with the sight of the graves, to add that nightmare to his dreams while he slept. He remembered everything that was important.

And he had never been able to shake the feeling that if he went there, somehow, his parents would see him, wherever he was. And then he would know they were disappointed in him. He was a bad person. And he was a bad brother.

“Alright.” Kaito was looking up at the sunset, his expression pensive. “We should hunt, although I doubt we’ll have any luck tonight.”

“Yeah.” Even Barianite addicts had families. “You can stay.”

“And you’d go hunting alone?”

“I’ve got nothing else to do.”

They sat there in silence. Kaito was thinking, Ryoga could tell, but he couldn’t read his expression. He was tapping out a rhythm on his knee absently. All of the tension seemed to have been bled out of him.

“What’d Faker say to you?”

Kaito smiled again. “Nothing.”

Ryoga raised an eyebrow. It was an obvious lie. “Nothing.”

“It’s safer if you don’t know, yet.” He shrugged. “Nothing to do with our investigation. When I have something concrete, I’ll tell you.”

There was no way to respond to that without revealing how relieved he was, so Ryoga kept his mouth shut. Maybe Kaito would go back inside, and be with his family, and Ryoga could go look for Numbers and drown his loneliness in whatever distraction he could get.

He needed that, he thought. He was getting used to Kaito. That was stupid, unsafe, dangerous...comfortable…

_And who are you, to deserve any comfort?_

Right. Hunting. Ryoga stood up. “I’m going,” he said. “Later.”

“Wait.” Kaito stood up as well. He brushed imaginary dust off of his clothes. “Let’s go.”

“Aren’t you --” Ryoga gestured at the house again.

Kaito shook his head.

Ryoga wondered if he should argue about it with him, and then decided not to. Kaito was a big boy; he could always change his mind if he wanted to later. If he wanted to hunt, so be it. Not that Ryoga needed the help, but…

He started walking. He didn’t look behind him, but Kaito’s footsteps were loud as he followed.

“Where are we going?”

Ryoga rattled off a street name without thinking about it. It was far from here, from headquarters, from the red light district, and from the hospital. He didn’t really care if there were Numbers there.

Kaito didn’t offer the use of whatever system he used to target duelists -- probably it needed Orbital 7 to function -- so Ryoga figured they would just walk. He wanted to move.

There were people everywhere, though. Even routes that were normally discreet were crowded today. Families were everywhere: couples, kids with parents, grandparents with even littler kids, O-bots carrying bright blue balloons in celebration. There wasn’t much place to walk on the sidewalk.

He and Kaito had to look out of place.

“We could cut across here and go into the warehouse district.”

“Not gonna be duelists there.”

“It’ll get us out of the crowd.”

Ryoga nodded.

The warehouse district was silent and deserted. No one was working, not even the O-bots, and no one was taking advantage of the holiday to commit any crimes (except, he supposed, himself and Kaito). Ryoga relaxed as the noise of the crowds died down behind him. This was better.

Even if it left him with nothing to do. He should have insisted Kaito go do his own thing tonight. Ryoga couldn’t wallow with him here, and Kaito wouldn’t let him go start a fight just to make himself feel better.

They wandered down the street. Ryoga watched the doorways and windows and shadows for signs of movement, and saw nothing; whenever he looked at Kaito, Kaito was wearing that same satisfied expression.

So he walked faster.

The buildings blurred together as they passed.

Heartland City’s warehouse and storage district was enormous; it sat like a dark scar between the marina and all the expensive waterfront property. Stuff came in on cargo ships and sat boxed up until trucks could ship it out. It was usually busy; no place to duel, no place to hide, no easy way to steal.

He could turn one way and be back at Kaito’s lab. He could go the other and if he kept walking, eventually, he’d reach his old neighborhood. His old house.

Instead he kept going straight.

Tall grey buildings, silence, barely suppressed frustration…it was fitting. This place was like a cemetery.

Kaito slapped him on the shoulder.

“What?”

“Did you hear that?”

Ryoga hadn’t. He stopped. “What did you —”

“Kaito.” V stepped out from behind a dumpster. IV and III followed. “You didn’t report back to me.”

He didn’t step back, even though IV was staring at him and smirking. His nails bit into his palm. _I could kill him,_ Ryoga thought, _like his brothers could stop me --_

“I was busy.” Kaito stepped forward and in front of him.

“Kaito —”

“Nii-sama.” III laid his hand on V’s elbow. “Please. Not today.”

_No, go on. Let me at him._

“Kaito, a word,” V said. “It’s important.”

“It always is,” Kaito said. He glanced back at Ryoga, and Ryoga understood his meaning.

_Don_ _’t do anything stupid._

_Yeah, yeah._

He waited. IV was still smirking; as soon as Kaito and V were out of hearing distance, he’d make his move. There was no way he’d be able to resist. And when he did…

Ryoga swallowed down the nausea and the unwelcome memories. He wouldn’t think about it. He’d just beat IV until he bled.

“What’d you do with the money?” IV asked. “Paid your sister’s hospital bills, I hope. Fire can leave such nasty scars.”

“Nii-sama,” III hissed.

“I’ll show you scars —”

“Bring it!”

Ryoga lunged. His hands closed around IV’s throat. IV choked loudly, and blood welled up around Ryoga’s nails where they’d dug into the skin. Ryoga could smell it.

Time slowed down.

III was trying to pry him off, but he couldn’t.

“Don’t ever —” He squeezed. “— _ever_ talk about my sister.”

V slammed into him from behind. Between him and III, they ripped his fingers off IV’s soft neck. He clawed at them, tearing scraps of fabric out of their clothes, snarled.

Ryoga was shoved down onto his hands and knees, blood under his nails, so angry he could barely breathe. Every ragged breath he heard IV draw was a personal insult.

“Get lost,” he heard Kaito say.

“Kaito —” V broke off. “Later, then. III. IV. Come.”

“Wait a minute, V!” IV bent over, gasping. “Are you just going to let him —” He had to stop talking to cough weakly.

Ryoga was panting. Someone had him by the collar; it took him a moment to realize it was Kaito, dragging him upright. He turned and saw Kaito was staring at V. Their eyes were locked.

He elbowed Kaito in the gut. “Move.”

“Fine.” Kaito began dragging him away.

Over his shoulder, Ryoga could see III and V pulling IV off in the other direction. He wondered what they were saying, if they were comforting each other, if IV’s neck would have scars. _I should have squeezed harder,_ he thought.

“They’re Tron’s children, you know.”

“What?”

Kaito shrugged. He let go of Ryoga’s collar now that the Arclights were out of sight, and sat down on the nearest set of steps. Ryoga looked around, but his heart rate was coming down now that the moment of rage had passed and he was sweating.

And he’d let Kaito drag him off, and Kaito had to know Ryoga had let him.

He didn’t think too hard about why.

“They’re his sons.”

“But Tron is…” Ryoga gestured. Tron was a child. And he treated the Arclights like shit. “Wait, how do you know that?”

“My father told me. He and Tron were friends, a long time ago.”

Ryoga turned that over in his head, trying to comprehend Tron, being friends with anyone. Clearly Kaito had been lying about his conversation with Faker being of no importance to their investigation.

“I’m telling you this so that you don’t keep snapping and attacking him,” Kaito said pointedly.

“Your old man tell you anything else while you were down there?” Not related to their investigation, his ass.

“You have no idea.”

IV had a parent. Not only did IV have both his brothers still alive and with him and presumably willing to defend his pathetic, monstrous self, but he had a father. He had someone willing to get Kaito and Ryoga killed to make him look good.  He wasn’t — alone on Family Day —

“We should hunt,” Kaito said.

“Fuck you.”

“Ryoga —”

He ignored Kaito as he started walking away. Fuck him, for his happy family and his tiny brother and his father who was looking out for him, fuck Kaito for keeping him from strangling IV, what did he know, his brother was still walking and talking, and all Ryoga had was hope that Rio might wake up and hope was so thin, so weak, so pathetic and he just —

Kaito’s boots stomped heavily on the ground as he followed Ryoga.

“Don’t be an idiot.”

_That patronizing fucker. I should stand back and let him duel himself to death, see how fucking know-it-all he is after —_

Ryoga spun around, pulled the deck case he’d stolen out from inside his coat and threw it. Disappointingly, Kaito caught it.

“That should cover you for a while. I’ll find you if I get any new info.”

He started to walk away again.

And then Kaito laughed.

“Is this —” He had his gloved hand over his mouth to hide his smile. “Is this III’s deck?”

“…yeah.”

Kaito clamped a hand over his mouth, which did nothing but muffle the sound of his snorting. “You stole his deck while you were punching him?”

He met Kaito’s eyes. “Yeah, so what?"

“So —” Kaito broke off as he doubled over and started laughing.

Ryoga had never seen Kaito really laugh before. And he was getting dirt all over his ridiculous white tights. And it hit him that they were standing around an empty warehouse district and planning to steal trading cards, during a national holiday.

None of that was really funny, but Ryoga couldn’t help himself. He laughed too.

“We should —” Kaito sucked in a deep breath. “We should leave.”

“Before III notices he’s missing his deck,” Ryoga agreed.

He and Kaito had to avoid each other’s eyes for a few minutes as they tried to compose themselves. Ryoga kept hearing himself giggle and being shocked by how childlike the sound was.

Finally, Kaito popped open the deck case with a screwdriver. There were no Numbers in the main deck, and it took another minute of unscrewing and prying to get at the Extra Deck.

“Well.” He held up the six Numbers cards stored within.

Ryoga grinned. “Guess that’s quota.”

“Come on.” Kaito handed Ryoga his share of the Numbers. “Let’s go enjoy the festival.”

“What?” Ryoga stared at him. Enjoy the festival? Him? What? He shoved the Numbers into a pocket inside his shirt. What he should do, he thought, was leave Kaito to his family and go hide out somewhere deserted until morning. Headquarters, or Rikuo’s arcade, or in one of these warehouses.

That would be what he usually did.

“You go. I’m going to —”

“Ryoga.” Kaito sighed. “They took the day off. Why shouldn’t we?”

He hesitated. But Kaito was holding out his hand.

Did he really want to sit alone all night and agonize over what Kaito and Haruto were probably doing together?

“Whatever,” he said, but he followed Kaito back towards downtown Heartland City.

+++++

It looked like every light in the city was on.

Ryoga let his legs dangle over the edge of the rooftop where they were sitting. Kaito sat beside him, coat zipped up all the way to his throat. He was probably cold, Ryoga thought, remembering how thin Kaito really was.

Below them the parade was passing. A huge, heart-shaped float led it, followed by important government officials with their families in convertibles and a marching band from a local school and a crowd of children all waving the city flag and singing.

“We could be working.”

“Things are about to be dangerous,” Kaito said abruptly.

Ryoga snorted.

“More dangerous. I don’t know what you’re doing with the Barianite you collect.” Kaito shrugged. “But what my father told me, about the Barians — I have to pursue it. That might mean turning against them and Tron. It might mean I no longer collect Numbers.”

“So what?”

“If whatever you’re doing is more important, I’ll…” Kaito shuddered. “Understand. You can go.”

Ryoga stared at him. So this was why he’d been invited onto this rooftop, away from the crowd, in the middle of the city, where they would not be overheard by the enemy. So that Kaito could try to be — noble? Kind? An idiot?

“Just shut up, Kaito.”

There was a drumroll below. Ryoga leaned forward slightly to see, despite himself. People were gathering around the fountain in the center of the square. Each woman, many of them visibly pregnant, carried a paper balloon with a face drawn on it.

Ryoga recognized them. They represented children-to-be. His parents had had a photograph of his mother, carrying twin balloons for her twin children, three months before they were born. Each women released a balloon on Family Day for luck, so that they would have a happy and healthy baby in the future.

(Asaya had released a balloon in the hopes she would someday be pregnant every year. She’d made Ryoga and Rio join her.)

Beside him Kaito was watching intently.

The music stopped and slowed below. The final beat of drums echoed through the silent crowd.

Then the first balloon was released. A second, a third, too many to count, and when the sky was filled with them the first firework was lit.

Like everything else about Family Day in Heartland, it was pink.

The people below began cheering wildly.

“My mother left us after Haruto was born. So I looked after him. And then Chr — V — was there, and he left. And my father appears to have lost his mind.”

Ryoga looked deliberately up at the sky, away from Kaito’s too-open face.

“My mother, V, Faker…” Kaito closed his eyes. “I supposed I’ve always thought that if I could just protect Haruto, it would be enough. That I could love him enough that I wouldn’t need anyone else anymore.”

Ryoga didn’t call him pathetic. The thought didn’t even come into his mind. “Yeah?” He closed his eyes, too, so that if Kaito wanted to answer him honestly, Ryoga wouldn’t shame him by seeing his expression. “How’s that going for you?”

“You saw for yourself,” Kaito said dryly. “What happened when I worked alone.”

Ryoga allowed himself a few seconds to savor that admission, to crystallize the memory in his mind, something to have for later when he was alone again. How long had it been, since anyone needed him...even Rio, for all that he was trying to save her, had always been independent when she was awake...and he’d failed her by letting her get hurt.

No, he was going to see this through with Kaito.

He wanted to tell Kaito something, but he didn’t know what. He’d managed all right on his own, hadn't he?

Hadn’t he? Kaito was holding on his hand. Ryoga kept thinking about pulling it away, but he couldn't quite do it. He was thinking about tag dueling and Numbers and Kaito’s hand on his neck as he injected the sedative and Yuuma’s face on the train and how much warmer the city seemed, right now, how much lighter the sky seemed even though the fireworks were over.

“Asaya didn’t want me. She just adopted me because they wouldn’t give her Rio any other way.”

“Then today she’s alone,” Kaito said, with no trace of pity in his voice.

Tomorrow, he thought. Things would return to normal tomorrow. But tonight, if everyone else in Heartland City was happy, there was no reason why he couldn’t try to be, too.

+++++

It took Orbital 7 three long, thankless hours to triangulate the strongest point of radiation from the satellite data Kaito-sama had given him. And when he finally rolled out, wheels squeaking with exhaustion, outside a house in a residential area on the south side of the city (Tsukumo household, census 3), there was no one home.

And he wasn’t picking up a spike in radiation, so if whoever they were hunting had been here, they weren’t now.

Orbital slumped. He’d survived overzealous O-bots trying to throw him in the trash. Several small children had tried to play with him and ended up scratching his paint and smearing him with jam (Haruto-sama would never be so undignified). There were radiation sites lower in intensity elsewhere in the city (Heartland Academy, Metro Plaza) but Orbital had headed for the largest one, reasoning that in this case bigger was better.

Apparently, it was not.

“Kaito-sama is going to rebuild me as a blender…”

He parked himself next to the trashcan at the end of the Tsukumo household’s driveway to wait. Logically, the inhabitants were out enjoying the Family Day festivities. But eventually they would come back. Either the duelist would be among them, and Orbital 7 could apprehend him then, or he wouldn’t, and Orbital would check out Heartland Academy instead.

Assuming that Kaito-sama didn’t appear suddenly to yell at him. That happened sometimes.

To pass the time, Orbital retrieved the census data for the Tsukumos. Akari Tsukumo was a twenty year old journalist who made most of the money. She used a deck with dragons (inferior, non-Galaxy Eye dragons) and had a few speeding tickets. Haru Tsukumo was Akari’s paternal grandmother, and she had a license to sell crafts at a local flea market. She was sixty-seven and had two children, one who was deceased.

Orbital felt a spark of pity. He wasn’t exactly the Tenjo brothers’ parent, but if anything happened to one of them he was sure he’d cease functioning correctly.

The third inhabitant was a minor, one Yuuma Tsukumo, sixteen years old, a student at Heartland Academy and a registered duelist with a legacy deck. There was nothing irregular in either his or his sister’s Duelist Network data. Orbital flipped through the results of an image search — Akari was tall, Yuuma had stupid-looking hair.

Nothing of real interest.

He opened up a game of solitaire.

Three (lost) games later, Orbital was considering cheating when something bumped into him from behind.

“Excuse me! Watch…where…”

She was beautiful.

The o-bot glaring furiously at him was gleaming white, all her paint and trim crisp and new. There was a pretty pink ribbon tied on one side of her head. She had the faint hum of well-maintained machinery and her eye glowed.

He had no words. Where had this angel of robots come from?

“Beep beep!” She shoved him out of the way. “Delivering picnic to that dumb Yuuma! Delivering picnic! Move out of the way!”

“Wait! I —”

She raced off — her control as she made a tight corner was incredible — carrying a wicker basket over one arm. Her ribbon fluttered as she passed. Orbital 7’s olfactory input was limited, but he swore he smelled sweet joint oil and peonies.

“ — love you…”

For several minutes Orbital 7 mourned the disappearance of the most perfect being he had ever laid camera on. Then it hit him. She had said Yuuma! Meaning she lived here, in the Tsukumo residence! Meaning following her was his job, and no one (Kaito-sama) could accuse him of slacking off!

But to be sure, Orbital dialed Kaito-sama’s number. _Ring…ring…ring…_

“What?” He sounded furious. And he had hit the audio-only button on their call.

Orbital stiffened. “Ah…Kaito-sama…I may have a small lead…”

“Then go — don’t bite me — go follow it!”

“Yes, Kaito-sama. Should I apprehend the suspect!”

“Ryoga, I’m on the phone —”

“So get off,” Orbital heard Ryoga drawl in the background. They didn’t sound like they were fighting. And if Kaito-sama was getting bitten…

“Meet me at headquarters in the morning.” His master said. Then he hung up.

Orbital seriously considered wiping his hard drive of what he’d just heard, or going to threaten Ryoga about his intentions toward Kaito-sama immediately.

But there was the O-bot to think about…and he had permission to go find her, and impress her, and show her what an advanced machine he was…

 

 


	11. Turn End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we go.

“Kaito-sama! Kaito-sama!”

Ryoga tried to roll over in the direction of the noise — Fuck Orbital 7, he thought — and couldn’t. Kaito’s arm was locked around his waist, his nose buried in the back of Ryoga’s hair; his breathing had changed enough that Ryoga could tell he was awake, but he was making no attempt to get up.

Which meant the noise was not stopping.

“Go shut him up already.” Ryoga elbowed Kaito lightly.

Kaito shifted behind him. His breath was warm on Ryoga’s skin.

“…it’s V.”

“Stop being a fucking weenie and go deal with it.”

“Hmph.” But Kaito untangled himself from Ryoga and got to his feet. He was dressed; it was too cold in headquarters for nudity, they’d fucked mostly clothed last night. He zipped up his coat and went to the door. “Stay here.”

“Why?”

“I’ll explain it to you later.” Kaito looked significantly up at the ceiling. Ryoga guessed that there was probably surveillance in headquarters and shrugged. He wouldn’t just wait here for Kaito to come back, of course, that would be too easy.

“Whatever.”

“Orbital, be quiet,” Kaito called through the door. He hit the open button and went through as it slid open, letting a draft of cold air into the room.

As it closed, Ryoga wrapped the thin blanket around himself. It was still warm from where Kaito had slept under it. Then he edged over to the door, put his ear against the metal, and listened.

“…downstairs?”

“Yes, Kaito-sama. And then the lead from yesterday —”

“Not here.”

“Yes…”

“Just give me a location. We’ll investigate after V’s been satisfied.”

“Ah, it’s Heartland Academy, sir…”

Ryoga didn’t hear the rest of the conversation.

Heartland Academy was where Yuuma went to school.

So Yuuma was dead.

Ryoga sat there, hands in his lap, and forced himself to think about it. He would have to come to terms with it. Yuuma was going to die, because Kaito had found him. He would die and Ryoga would never see him, never touch him, never hear him, never know if Yuuma had been going to kiss him on the train, never give back his wallet.

He had known that this would happen eventually, hadn’t he? He had been prepared, right?

No, Ryoga admitted, he’d deluded himself. But Rio needed him to hunt Numbers, dammit. She needed him. He couldn’t help Yuuma, even if Yuuma was kind, even if Yuuma had helped him, even if Yuuma was…

There was still time. Kaito had to meet with V before he could go to Heartland Academy.

Or he could wait, and go with him when he came back and…what? Watch Yuuma die while he stood around? Watch his face twist in betrayal? Help Kaito do it?

The thought of it made him want to vomit.

But Yuuma was no one. No one at all. He was just another Numbers Hunter, another enemy, another…

_“You’re cute,” Yuuma mumbled, smiling — his teeth were very white and his eyes were huge — and nudging Ryoga’s shoulder with his own._

“Fuck,” Ryoga said aloud. He stared down at his own hands. Then he got up and left the room and prayed he still remembered how to hotwire a motorcycle.  
+++++

“You’ve had the data for some time, Kaito.”

“Not enough time.”

“You’re lying.”

“If you think so, do it yourself. If you even remember how.”

“What does that mean?”

“Only that I don’t exactly remember you doing a lot of lab work while you were working for my father, V.”

V stopped in his tracks. He sighed. Then he reached for Kaito’s hand where it was resting on the console.

Kaito pulled it out of reach.

“I am trying to protect you.” V closed his eyes. “Kaito. Please. Produce something. Just until this is over.”

“I told you, I’m not finished with it.” Kaito said. There was something immensely satisfying about watching V plead fruitlessly with him. Kaito had the data from his father already; he didn’t need V’s help and he didn’t need V’s protection. He didn’t need V to love him anymore. Kaito was busy now.

He would save Haruto and he would stop the Barians and V wouldn’t get in his way.

“Kaito.”

“What?”

“Tron wants to see proof you aren’t neglecting the project.” He held up his hands. “So.”

Kaito wanted to seethe at the waste of his time, but he pulled a portable drive out of his coat and began loading a decot simulation he’d made onto the console. It would take some time to explain it (lie about it) to V, but he supposed Ryoga could use the rest.

It wasn’t as if they’d slept much last night.

“Something funny, Kaito?”

“Not at all,” Kaito muttered as he typed. “Not at all.”

+++++

There was no time for subtlety, so Ryoga parked his stolen motorcycle outside the school illegally and scaled the iron gate. There were no guards, no security measures at all. Kaito could just fly right in.

The front doors weren’t even locked. Ryoga ran through the empty hallways, looking for something, anything that would show him where Yuuma was. He glanced into every classroom he passed; they were all full of students who stared at him when they caught sight of him peering through the glass. Yuuma wasn’t in any of them.

His heart was pounding. There was no time, he had to find Yuuma, but how was he going to find him before Kaito did?

It was strange to think about Kaito as an enemy again — Ryoga kept thinking of things he wanted to ask him about — and Ryoga ignored the way that hurt. He had made this choice; there was no going back on it now.

(That was a lie. Even now Ryoga was imagining himself saying he’d just been following up a lead, did Kaito think he would just wait around for him like a good little boy —)

“Excuse me.” A green-haired girl in the school’s uniform stopped him. She stared suspiciously at him. “Are you lost?”

Right. He wasn’t wearing a uniform, he was wearing an active duel disk, and he had a D-gazer tattoo and dirt on his face. And he was lost.

“Do you know Yuuma Tsukumo?”

She blinked. “Yes, but —”

“Where is he?”

“Why do you want to know? Oh my god, you — you’re that Shark guy!”

“Look, I need to find him. Now.”

The girl stared at him. She didn’t say anything, and she looked like she was going to bolt. 

“It’s an emergency!”

“He said you pushed him off a train and left him there! And you took his wallet,” she added.

Ryoga closed his eyes. God, he’d come all this way, and Yuuma might die because of this. It would have been funny if it were happening to anyone else. 

“Please.” He forced the word out. “There’s going to be a guy here looking for him soon. He’ll kill Yuuma. Where is he?”

She still said nothing.

“Look, you’re his friend! Do you want him to get killed while we’re wasting time talking?”

“He’s really in danger?”

“Yes!”

“He’s in gym. Come on, I’ll show you the way.” She grabbed his arm, and to Ryoga’s immense relief, she started running down the hallway. “Who’s looking for Yuuma? Why?”

“They’re tracking some kind of energy he gives off!” 

They turned a corner, past a teacher who tried to stop her. SHe yelled something unintelligible at him, without slowing down. 

“Energy? What do you mean?”

“Does Yuuma have anything that could emit weird energy?”

“Yes! The Emperor’s Key! It’s the pendant he always wears! Astral lives in it!”

“Is Astral his invisible friend?”

“Yes!” She skidded to a stop, her shoes squeaking on the floor. She pointed at the double doors. “Yuuma is in there, but…” She did as Ryoga had been doing and looked through the window cut into the door. “He’s not wearing the Key — it must be in his locker.”

She grabbed Ryoga’s arm again.

“Quick, the boy’s locker room is over here!”

Ryoga had to admire her as they rushed in. She didn't hesitate for a second to go inside.

“I don’t know which locker is Yuuma’s…”

“Check them all.” Ryoga started on the right, and the girl moved down to the leftmost column and began opening them from the top. The metal doors clanged loudly as they opened and closed; there had to be a hundred lockers in this first block alone. At least they weren’t locked, he thought.

They would never check them all in time. Ryoga checked his phone; he had maybe three minutes.

The girl seemed to have the same idea. “Try all the ones with the number 39 in them!”

Ryoga did. None of them had the gold pendant he’d seem Yuuma wearing.

“Um…his dad’s birthday is June 16th?”

None of the locker numbers with 16 in them had the Key.

The girl’s eyes were wet. She looked around wildly. “Um — his dad disappeared on February 19th!”

She reached out and yanked open locker number 219.

There, between Yuuma’s shoes, was the Key.

Ryoga snatched it up and headed towards the door. If he ran for it, Kaito would have to follow him, away from the school and Yuuma. 

“Wait!” She flung herself in his way.

“What?”

“What do I tell Yuuma? His dad gave him that Key. And Astral is in there…”

Ryoga wanted to tell her that it didn’t matter, that anything could be justified if Yuuma stayed alive.

But she had raised another point — if Kaito took the Key from him, it would be bad — so Ryoga fumbled though his pockets.

He had two small black boxes, sealed and lead-lined Barianite holders, with three small stones each inside. He’d snagged them on his way out of headquarters, reasoning that if he had to duel Kaito, he might need a…but no. He wouldn’t.

He emptied all the Barianite into one box and dropped the Key into the other. He had to trust that it would prevent the Key’s energy from being picked up on Kaito’s scanners.

“Here. Don’t open it.”

“But —”

“Go back to class. You — you never saw me, okay? And give him this.” He shoved Yuuma’s wallet into her hands.

“But what about you? Where are you going?”

“I’ll lead Kaito off. Don’t let Yuuma go home alone.”

He turned and starting running for the front door, ignoring her cries for him to wait behind him. He had to be outside before Kaito got there; if he saw Ryoga, he would give chase. He’d want to know what Ryoga was doing. He trusted that Ryoga was on his side.

+++++

Kaito didn’t understand.

He and Orbital 7 pulled up outside Heartland Academy; it was mostly deserted at this time of day. The students would be in class; Yuuma Tsukumo, the primary suspect, had gym class. Orbital would go in, scout him out, and see if he could find the source of the energy there. Then Kaito would lure him out and challenge him to a duel. He’d bulked up his deck in preparation; he knew nothing about Yuuma’s skill and couldn’t risk losing to him due to overconfidence.

His plan was perfect, except that Ryoga was standing in front of the school, leaning against the front gates, and Orbital was whining that he’d lost the signal entirely.  
He’d pinged Ryoga’s tracker a few minutes earlier and it had showed he was still at Headquarters. So he had removed his tracker and come to Heartland Academy.

Which meant…

Which meant…

“I trusted you,” Kaito said, his throat dry. “And here you are.”

“Here I am,” Ryoga agreed. He held up one of the smaller Barianite transportation cases. “Come and get me.” And then he took off running. Kaito watched him go, unable to move as he flung himself onto an illegally parked bike — he must have stolen it — and took off, tires squealing, down the street. Orbital 7 was shifting to bike mode, though Kaito couldn’t remember giving the order, and he didn’t know if Orbital was taking initiative or if he had just completely lost his mind and the hunter inside him had taken over.

Insane. It was insane. WHy would Ryoga betray him? Only last night they had — Ryoga had held him — he had told him about his mother —

He knew something, Kaito thought. He’d always suspected that Ryoga did, just from his success as a Hunter, his odd powers, his sometimes unnatural strength, the way he’d always said too little. He had known that Ryoga had secrets.

It had felt good to have a partner again. It had felt good to not be alone. Ryoga had given him hope, that he would save Haruto and still live, that he wasn’t slowly dying in vain. They’d been doing well together. Everything had been fine.

Haruto, Kaito told himself, and he centered his thoughts on his brother. He mounted Orbital and they were off.

Ryoga was fast, and reckless, but he was driving away from the populated city center and into sparser parts of the city. And he needed the cover of other vehicles to keep his lead.

Kaito let him stay ahead, pull over on an empty street, abandon the bike and run away. He followed leisurely, whistling to himself, kicking at the bike as he passed.

He followed the trail into a warehouse (had they been here only yesterday? It seemed like another lifetime) and began checking every room, as silently as he could. Somewhere, Ryoga was here…

…ah, there he was. Kaito saw a shadow move. He walked past it, seemingly oblivious, and checked behind a piece of heavy furniture carefully. He waited; Ryoga wouldn’t dare try to move again with Kaito so close. He was cautious that way.

Not cautious enough, Kaito thought. And then he punched RY=yoga in the face.

He went down.

Kaito hooked his duel anchor to the underside of Ryoga’s duel disk and waited.

“Why?” Kaito asked aloud. Behind him, Orbital 7 whirred. Ryoga, still out cold, didn’t so much as twitch.

_I told you I needed you._

Kaito looked down at the duel disk on his arm. 

There was one way to get answers.

“Get him up.”

Orbital poked him with a sizzling live wire. Kaito probably should have specified how, he thought, but there was something primal and satisfying about the Ryoga jerked awake screaming.

“Agh!”

“Where is it?”

Ryoga met his eyes. His eyes were blue, and deep, and they revealed nothing about his soul or his mind or heart, just reminded Kaito of the sleepy way he’d looked at Kaito last night before falling asleep in his arms.

“Fuck off, Kaito,” he said.

Kaito activated the duel anchor, and Ryoga’s duel disk turned itself on. It clicked ominously as Kaito’s duel dish flashed Turn 1.

“Photon Mode,” he said, and for once the pain of it was sweet. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll beat it out of you.”

“Don’t cry when you lose,” Ryoga replied. 

“Don’t worry,” Kaito said. Ryoga was just looking at him, unaffected. He had met Kaito’s brother, talked to him, been nice to him, and now Kaito would have to explain when Haruto asked where Ryoga was. He had covered Kaito’s back and dragged him off the street when he was injured and lied to the Arclights to cover for him. He had told Kaito his secrets, late at night in the dark — his sister, his parents, his foster mother, his fears, everything — or so Kaito had thought.

Ryoga had trusted him.

It had meant something to Kaito, despite all his attempts to have be meaningless. He’d held Ryoga and thought that things were changing.

But he was no different than V was. A traitor. He’d used Kaito to get what he wanted.

“I won’t lose,” he said.

And Kaito didn’t.

Nothing felt real while he was dueling.

Kaito stared at his field. It was a simulation, he thought. Just a simulation, and it would all disappear when it was over. 

This couldn’t be happening.

 _I gave you everything,_ Kaito thought, and he felt a wave of white-hot rage. _I gave you everything I had, damn you._

Galaxy Eyes was angry, incandescent in its fury. It rose above the field like a star had descended from the heavens, bright and hot and terrible, destroying everything in its path.

Once it was on the field, it was over, Kaito realized. He watched Ryoga’s life points drop as if from far away, somewhere else. Ryoga was not dueling very well. Was it guilt? Pain? Fear? All of them, Kaito hoped, because Ryoga had betrayed him so senselessly, for absolutely nothing — 

Kaito had expected more of him. 

“You disappoint me,” he said. He meant it to be cool, cutting, but it came out raw and true.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Ryoga said, and he made a coward’s move. A card in defense mode. His hand had to be abysmal.

 _No,_ Kaito thought. _I don’t. You never bothered to explain._

Ryoga stumbled backwards as Kaito’s dragon loomed.

Galaxy Eyes was faithful. Perhaps it alone could be trusted.

“You’re not going to ask for mercy?”

Ryoga smiled.

“What’s the point?”

 _Fuck you,_ Kaito thought. “Photon Stream of Destruction!”

The bricks of the wall behind Ryoga broke under the force of his impact. He hit the wall with his back, head cracking loudly against stone, and then he crumpled to the ground.

There was blood on the wall. 

He didn’t move much. He laid there.

Slowly, without any input from his brain, Kaito’s body moved to his side. He rolled Ryoga over onto his back.

He cradled his head in the crook of his arm. Now there was blood on his hands, too, fresh and red and warm, and Kaito could see clearly the long nights ahead, where he would dream of this, dream of the smell and feel of Ryoga’s blood.

“I trusted you.”

“Stupid.”

“Yes,” Kaito said, because there was no reason not to say it now.

He laid his hand on Ryoga’s chest. “Close your eyes. It will hurt less.”

That was a lie; Kaito had no way of knowing if it would even hurt at all. But he didn’t want to have to watch the light go out of his eyes.

“Wait.”

“You don’t want to see this.”

“Wait.” Ryoga grabbed his wrist with desperate strength. “Kaito. Kaito.”

“I don’t have a choice,” Kaito said. He clutched at Ryoga’s shirt. “You used a Numbers against me.”

“I know,” Ryoga croaked. “My sister. At Heartland General.”

“What?”

“I take her the Barianite.” Ryoga tried to get something out of his pocket. It took him three attempts, three long, fumbling attempts.

He dropped the black box, and three tiny pieces of Barianite fell onto the pavement. 

Kaito closed his eyes.

“Alright.” He relaxed his hand. He didn’t know if Ryoga was watching. Either way, he supposed, the pain would be unbearable. 

“Photon Hand,” he whispered, and his fingers sank through Ryoga’s skin. There was a sudden flare of heat in his palm. Ryoga’s body went cold.

He withdrew Ryoga’s — the soul.

It was blue-white. It was an ordinary human soul.

“I hate you,” Kaito lied. He let the soul be absorbed into him, and then he forced himself to look at Ryoga’s soulless shell.

He’d kept his eyes open.

Kaito closed them with a shaking fingertip.

“Kaito-sama?”

Ryoga was dead. No matter that he was still breathing faintly in Kaito’s lap; he was dead. He would never speak or move or touch Kaito again. He’d been reduced to this husk of a human being. 

And here he was in Kaito’s arms. Kaito had thought of holding him, earlier, and he’d been burning with anger and he’d attacked and now it was over, and he could hold the corpse. He could do that.

“Kaito-sama?” Cold metal touched his shoulders. “Let’s go…”

“I killed him.”

“Kaito-sama, it’s alright…” Orbital 7 squeezed his shoulder. “Let’s just go — go find Haruto-sama, and —”

“What am I supposed to tell him?” Kaito asked. “When he asks what happened to Ryoga? How the hell am I supposed to explain?”

“I—I don’t know.” Orbital said.

There was a faint clink. A drop of rain rolled down Orbital 7s chassis, and then another, and then another, and then the heavens opened and it began to pour.

The rain soaked into Kaito’s skin, washed away the blood on his hands, and hid his tears. The sound of it falling drowned out his sobs. It was cold, and wet, and Kaito could pretend that nothing had happened, that the chill in Ryoga’s body was just from the waterlogged jacket he was wearing, that maybe he would wake and demand to know what the hell Kaito was doing.

“It’s alright, Kaito-sama,” Orbital 7 said, and Kaito let him keep talking. The sound of his voice muffled the screaming in his thoughts.


	12. Cost Down

Dripping wet, Kotori arrived at Yuuma’s house.

She stood outside their front door for what seemed like an eternity, trying to find the courage to reach up and knock. She couldn’t shake the fear that he — Kaito, or maybe the cab driver she’d tricked — would find her and…

But worse yet was the knowledge of how Yuuma would look when she told him. She could imagine it clearly; she had been there the day they delivered the news his father and mother were missing.

Yuuma was so scared of losing people.

What should she do? What could she do? The Key in its box was so heavy in her hands. She could feel the weight of the stolen wallet in her skirt pocket.

Then the study window’s curtains were drawn back — Kotori met Akari’s confused gaze — and the choice was taken away from her.

She waited.

Akari pulled open the front door.

“Kotori! Come inside, you must be freezing. I’ll get you a towel — Obomi! Can you please bring Kotori some towels?” Akari peered closely at her. “Are you alright?”

Her eyes must be red. Kotori had cried the whole way here. She shook her head and let herself be led into the living room, where she sat on a towel and was draped in them. They were warm, like they’d just come from the dryer. She peeled off her soaked socks.

Maybe Yuuma wasn’t home.

“Yuuma said he had an exam.” Akari snorted. “I’ll get him for you. Probably working on his deck again.”

Working his deck. Kotori squeezed the black box in her hands so tightly her palms stung. He was probably panicking right now, wondering where Astral was, maybe even thinking of going out to look for him.

She could not let him leave.

“Great,” Kotori whispered.

Yuuma came down quickly. His eyes were red, too.

“Kotori! My pendant is —”

She held up the box wordlessly.

“You have it? Eh?”

“Sit down,” she said. “Please. I—I have to tell you something important. It’s about Shark.”

“Shark?” Yuuma sat down and leaned in eagerly.

“I’m sorry.” She shoved the box and the wallet into his hands. “He’s —”

“No.”

“I’m sorry, but —”

“No!”

“He’s dead,” Kotori sobbed, and she looked away from the crumpled expression on Yuuma’s face.

+++++

That evening, Yuuma discovered his wallet was filled with cash.

After he’d taken the Key out, against Kotori’s furious protests (Kaito will find you!), he’d told Astral what had happened.

How Shark had come to the school to save him. How Kotori had gotten a cab to follow Kaito all the way into the worst part of town to watch Shark die. How she’d stiffed the cab driver and spent two hours on subway getting back.

How Shark had protected him.

And still was protecting him, if the sheer amount of money meant anything. Yuuma had never had so much cash, never seen so much cash in real life.

Akari couldn’t find it. Akari couldn’t know anything.

Astral floated around him while he dressed and put clothes in a bag.

_The first time they dueled, Shark mocked him relentlessly. From anyone else, it wouldn_ _’t have meant anything; people had been mocking him his whole life. Yuuma knew listening to taunts only got in the way of his kattobingu philosophy._

_But Shark looked sad._

“Yuuma, do you think this is wise?”

“I have to.”

“It’s dangerous. You have nowhere to go.”

“Rei will help.”

“Rei is —”

“Astral, they killed him.” Yuuma stared up at him, blinking back tears. “What if Akari or Grandma —”

“I know, Yuuma.” Astral said urgently. “I understand. But will your sister be happy if you are the next one killed?”

Yuuma was silent for a moment.

“Better me than them,” he said finally.

Astral looked at him for a long time. Yuuma finished packing his backpack and opened the window.

Here it was. He’d imagined, somehow, that he could completely separate his duelist self from his real life. He’d been wrong.

As he climbed out, Astral spoke again.

“You are brave,” he said finally. “Yuuma.”

“Yeah?”

“I believe in you.”

“…thanks.”

_He rarely talked about his family or his friends._

_Yuuma always wondered about them. Who Shark loved, who looked after him, who was with him when he did whatever it was he was doing when he wasn_ _’t showing up and asking Yuuma for help or giving him warnings. He was so secretive, whereas Yuuma always found himself saying too much._

He debated writing Akari a note to tell her he was running away.

In the end, he didn’t. He just went to the address Rei had texted him without a single word.

As usual, Rei was hanging out somewhere deserted and dangerous. Tonight it was an abandoned construction site; Yuuma could see Rei’s legs dangling over the edge of a platform, seven stories above. He climbed the rickety ladder to find his friend waiting. And smiling.

Yuuma felt a huge sense of relief. He was sure, if he explained, Rei would agree to help.

He let it all pour out of him, no secrets, in a great wave of words.

“I see,” Rei said when Yuuma was done with his story. “You were friends with that guy?”

“Yeah.” Yuuma wiped at his eyes. “With Shark.”

“Yuuma…” Rei leaned in. “Shark was into some really bad stuff…”

“No, he wasn’t!”

“He was running around stealing people’s souls with Kaito…”

“He definitely wasn’t that kind of guy!”

“I’m sorry, Yuuma, but…it’s probably for the best.” Rei shrugged. “I can’t help you. Sorry.”

Yuuma gaped at him.

“But…we’re friends, Rei!”

“I know! Yuuma, I want to help, but Shark goes against all the stuff I’m fighting for. I don’t want to get involved in his business. I have to focus on fighting the Barians.”

“But Rei!”

“I’m sorry!”

“If you were really sorry, you’d help me!” Yuuma stood up. “Fine! I’ll track down Kaito myself!”

Rei called after him, but Yuuma ignored him as he stomped back down the ladder, seven long stories, and marched off into the street. He had no idea where he was going, but that was fine. If Kaito was running around stealing people’s souls, Yuuma would just wait until Kaito found him, and then he would…and then he would…

…he would do something awful to him.

_Shark_ _’s face was so close. Yuuma wasn’t sure what was happening, but he could feel how warm Shark was. How close he was. How if Yuuma leaned forward, just a little bit, he could —_

Yuuma swallowed heavily.

“Yuuma?”

“Yeah?”

“When we find Kaito, what will we do?”

Yuuma hesitated. “…we’re gonna beat him. In a duel. And make him tell us about Shark.” That was clean enough.

“But this Kaito must be an excellent duelist if he is responsible for all the soulless duelists and for killing Shark. We should prepare.”

“You mean like practice our dueling?”

“Precisely.”

He had never asked Shark the right questions when he’d been alive.

“Okay.” Yuuma put on his duel disk. “Let’s go find a fight.”

“But Yuuma —” Astral stopped. “Very well. Let’s go.”

+++++

The pain was nothing.

Orbital 7 was talking, and Kaito wasn’t listening, He could tell from the steady burn in his chest and the tone of his whining what he was saying. No time left to duel, his body falling apart, it was time to stop.

But he wouldn’t. The pain was nothing.

Kaito defeated one duelist with Numbers. Two. Three. Then two more duelists who challenged him because he was too weak to run away. Then another duelist who he challenged, because they were looking at him with pity in their eyes.

He would not accept pity. This pain, it was nothing.

He stood there over the bodies of the defeated and collected their souls, one by one. They were all blue and soft and warm, all the same, Numbers or no Numbers, innocent or guilty. Kaito had always before made himself believe there was some difference. If he only killed the guilty, if he spared those who abstained from sin, surely he was not so terrible.

He’d accepted the pain as his due and now he forgot it existed. He’d delivered Ryoga’s body to the Arclights’ lab this morning, Ryoga’s fang necklace in his pocket, and walked out whistling. He hadn’t even asked what they planned to do with him, or why. It was better not to know.

The Innocent? The guilty? There was no such thing, anymore. There was just Kaito and the Numbers he needed to collect to give himself a reason to live. There was just the knowledge that alone, he would have to that much more terrifying, that much stronger, that much more. He would have to do the work of two.

He was a monster. And he would be one, for Haruto’s sake. And that was all he would ever be anymore.

And so he dueled without reason or purpose. Let the bodies fall; the bystanders would tell of the story of the monster and his dragon, who stole the souls of duelists and left them grey and comatose. Was there even any difference between death and having one’s soul stolen? Was there? Kaito didn’t know anymore.

He just knew he was alone and he hurt.

Orbital tugged fruitlessly at his arm, trying to get him away from the bodies. The police were coming; Kaito could hear the sirens. His d-gazer was flashing, telling him there was an incoming call.

Kaito ignored it all. He ached down to the bone, but the pain was nothing. It was nothing at all, compared to the pain of being alone.

+++++

Yuuma didn’t go home after school.

That was the first sign something else was wrong for Kotori. She had watched Yuuma all day, seen how strange he seemed — loud one moment, silent the next, obviously distracted — and how sad he didn’t seem. She hadn’t seem him cry.

Kotori herself was weepy. She’d had to go to the bathroom twice just to wipe her face and splash her swollen eyes with cold water. It would get better, she told herself. She wouldn’t always jump at every noise and keep looking over her shoulder. Someday.

But Yuuma was acting weird, and she was afraid.

After school, Tetsuo and the other went off to do ‘duel practice’. Kotori begged off, ignoring their pleas. The Numbers Club seemed like a far off dream now. Yuuma wouldn’t go, either, but he didn’t go home; he claimed to have detention and went back inside.

But detention for what, Kotori asked herself. Yuuma had arrived at school on time and paid attention all day. She followed him from a distance as he retrieved a huge back pack from the locker room. Then he went out a back door and made his way to the old school gymnasium, the one no one ever used.

He was fumbling with the lock when she tapped him on the shoulder.

“Gah! Kotori!”

“What are you doing? You told us you were going home.”

“I am! I just — have to do something.”

“Do what?” Kotori frowned. “Are those my hair pins?”

“…no?”

“Give them here.” Kotori knelt down, unfolded the pins, and bent them into the lock. “Let me…just…” The lock clicked and opened. She kicked open the door.

Yuuma gaped.

Kotori winked. A girl had to have her secrets.

She watched as Yuuma carried his bag into the old gym and began unpacking it. He laid out a sleeping bag and a flashlight, fluffed a pillow, and took out a pair of crumpled pajamas.

“Yuuma, are you living here?”

He swallowed heavily. “I…uh…”

“Yuuma Tsukumo…”

“I can’t go home! What if they go after my sister? Or my grandma? Or — or Obomi?”

Kotori shuddered at the thought of Kaito descending on poor Akari or Obomi, wings spread, hand outstretched…

He had a point. An awful point, one that would give Kotori nightmares, but a point all the same.

“Okay,” she said. “I understand. I’ll bring you extra food in the mornings.”

Yuuma’s face lit up briefly before it dissolved into a hard mask. He looked so determined.

“Thanks, Kotori. You’re a real friend.”

+++++

The hospital was cold.

Kaito tugged at the zipper on his coat as he walked down the empty hall. It was midnight; the nurses were in the break room, giving report, and he had a window of time alone in the ward.

He’d been in hospitals before, but the coma ward was unusually silent. The patients even breathed quietly. Kaito’s footsteps were the loudest thing there.

He’d left Orbital 7 watching the rooftop entrance.

So he stood before Rio Kamishiro’s room alone.

Her parents’ money had warranted a private room, and the windw overlooked the city skyline. The lights twinkled outside the glass, in sharp contrast to the harsh red lights on the machines that watched her vitals day and night. The room was dark, large, and comfortably furnished.

Kaito made himself look at her.

God, she did look like Ryoga. Like a paler, thinner, deader Ryoga, if Ryoga was a woman with blue hair. She had split ends and chipped nails. Her mouth was slack and her lashes cast spidery shadows down on her cheeks.

There was a little pink dust on the white blanket laid over her body. Kaito reached out and brushed it off. Barianite dust, he thought, and the box in his pocket felt like a lead weight. He half expected it to start thumping like a heartbeat or start glowing like a brand of shame.

But nothing happened. Rio kept breathing and the room stayed quiet and dark and Kaito kept staring at that woman, that girl, this person whom Ryoga had loved the way Kaito loved Haruto. That is the reason Ryoga joined him, after all.

He supposed in some twisted way he owed her. And it was for that debt, not for any other, that he took the Barianite from his pocket and dumped it onto the bedspread.

A cloud of red light roses from the stones where they lay, and seeped into Rio’s skin. The rocks crumbled into dust. Kaito swept it away.

Nothing happened, not even a hitch in her breath or a skip in her heartbeat.

+++++

Akari researched while she waited for Yuuma to come home and fought off the nagging feeling that he wouldn’t.

 _He_ _’s not even sixteen years old,_ she thought. _He can_ _’t run away from home. He can’t cook or do basic math or —_

She bit angrily into the end of her pen as she typed. As promised, she was looking into the Tenjo Industries logo they’d found on the back of one of Kazuma’s journals. Akari knew a little about them — they were a big employer in Heartland City — but the more she looked, the less she understood. It wasn’t a huge corporation, but everything about it seemed to be vague or a mystery.

The only thing of note Akari had discovered was that Dr. Faker, a noted and controversial Heartland City scientist, was on the board of directors for it. Something about that bothered her, and she couldn’t remember what it was. Something about Faker. Something about…

Her gaze fell to the box beneath her desk.

It was innocuous enough — brown cardboard sealed iwth calear packing tape — not at all suspicious enough to warrant the way she kicked at it in frustration.

These were the night she really hated her parents: not only had they disappeared on her, but they’d left her all the burdens and none of the knowledge. She searched around in her electronic rolodex for the number of one of Kazuma’s old friends. Maybe he would know. She supposed if needed she could call Charlie.

Akari shuddered. _No_.

She looked at the box again. _Maybe just a peek_ _…_

What harm could it do?

 _No_ , she thought again. _I shouldn_ _’t._ She grabbed her d-gazer and dialed the number.

Her father had had her remove those journals for a reason.

 

 


	13. Dark Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings: brief sex scene, electrocution, possession.

Fucking was fine, but Kaito twisted his head away when V paused mid-thrust to try and kiss him.

“Ugh.”

“Kaito…” V looked amused. His hips shifted and Kaito bit back an impatient snarl.

He wished they could get on with it already. He wished one of them would come. He wished he hadn’t come to this check in where V said nothing of importance and Kaito had to make up lies.

But V’s grip so hard it hurt. And the pain was good.

“Ah.” V started moving again, and Kaito held onto the table beneath him and tried not to think about the way his leg was cramping. He was hard, he thought, but his body didn’t feel like his own. It was all happening to someone else.

His mind wandered.

It had been different with him.

Everything had been so present. So real. Kaito had been so alive —

“Ryoga,” he whispered aloud.

 V froze.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Kaito said. And he wasn’t lying. It was nothing. That was then, and this was now, and V just needed to finish so Kaito could get back to work. “Move, damn you.”

“Alright,” V said, and he was smiling.

Kaito closed his eyes and thought of something — someone — else.

+++++

It was a dim room. The walls were rough wood; every seat was taken at the bar and everyone was nursing a drink. It was ominously quiet while the rules were explained. The bouncer eyed him.

Yuuma had heard enough.

“I’m dueling,” he declared.

Astral looked sharply at him. “Yuuma, no!”

The leader of the duelists looked a him and laughed. “You!” He held up the chain and collar. “Didn’t you hear me, kid? In this duel, you take the damage literally.”

“I heard you!” Yuuma clenched his fists. Sweat dripped down his forehead. “I’m gonna duel.”

He picked up the shock collar, the attached chain jingling mockingly, and snapped it around his throat.

The duelists stared at him.

“Kid’s serious…”

“Is he even old enough to get in…?”

“Let him have it.”

“Yuuma,” Astral said again. Yuuma ignored him.

The opponents at school weren’t nearly strong enough. Yuuma didn’t want to involve anyone he actually knew. And they weren’t exactly going to get good dueling practice just wandering around the city in the dark.

So Yuuma had come here, to the underground dueling club he’d run away from before. Here he’d get a real challenge.

“This is dangerous,” Astral said.

“Kaito is dangerous, Astral! You’re the one who keeps saying I need practice.” Yuuma put on his duel disk and his d-gazer. “Duel!”

His opponent was three times his size and weight, with thick slabs of muscle and cruel eyes. He had faint scars around his neck that showed he’d worn these collars before.

Yuuma adjusted his nervously, palms slick with sweat, and checked his hand. There were no level four monsters.

He set a defense position monster and waited. He’d probably draw one next turn; if he drew a Gagaga monster he could change the level of his defense position monster to match. Then he’d summon Hope, and —

“What are you going to do if the opponent inflicts piercing damage?” Astral asked.

Yuuma opened his mouth to tell him to shut up, just as his opponent did just that.

And then everything burned. His arm convulsed. Black spots fluttered in his eyes. Someone was screaming.

Oh. It was him.

“Yuuma!”

“I…draw,” Yuuma croaked. He looked down. It was Gagaga Magician. “I summon this monster.”

Gagaga Magician appeared. Maybe it was his imagination, but he seemed to be looking over his shoulder at Yuuma with concerned eyes.

“I special summon Gagaga Child and raise his level to four. Xyz…summon…” Yuuma had to grab onto a chair for balance as his legs shook. “Number 39, Aspiring Emperor: Hope!”

_Look, Astral. I did it._

_Yuuma, you have to stop. Please._

_No_ _…I’m gonna get stronger…_

“Kid, you got guts.” The opposing duelist said. “I’ll give you that.”

“Hey, boss,” someone whispered loudly. “Ain’t that the same kind of card you got? Numbers?”

+++++

Akari leaned back in her chair, her profile of Tenjo Industries displayed onscreen, and bit into the end of her pen pensively. It was a short profile; information had turned out to hard to find.

Tenjo Industries had started out as a family company owned by the Tenjo family, none of whom were now involved with the company. It was a tech company that employed thousands of Heartland City residents. The map Akari had showed the locations of archaeological sites her father might have visited, none of which had any relation to Tenjo Industries.

“Nothing really interesting about their staff, either. Except…Faker is on their board? Hmm.”

Dr. Faker was a Heartland City scientist who owned, if Akari recalled correctly, an alarming amount of property. He was what the newspaper staff called a shadow player; he was probably pulling all kinds of strings and no one would ever know about it unless someone on the inside spilled.

Something about his name was familiar.

“Focus,” she mumbled. “Where can I get new info about Faker?”

Nothing came to mind.

Akari flipped through her rolodex and dialed another number, this time to a college buddy.

“Hello?”

“Yo, it’s Akari.” She chewed the pen. “How are you?”

“Fine, fine. And you?"

“I need a favor.”

“Sure.”

“You used to PA over at the Tenjo Industries HQ, right?”

“I did.”

“You ever meet Dr. Faker?”

“Once, actually. I was watching his kids during a board meeting. They were pretty cute. Um, Kaito and Haru…Haru…Haruto, maybe? Nice kids. I don’t know much else about him, though.”

“No problem. That helps.”

It didn’t, really, but there was no reason to burn any bridges.

“Great. Listen, I gotta run, Akari. Catch you later?”

“Of course. Bye.”

Akari sighed. Great, now she knew about Faker’s personal life. Which told her nothing about how her father had ended up with a Tenjo Industries map pf archaeological sites, or what that even had to do with Yuuma’s mysterious disappearance —

She stopped thinking.

He would come home. Soon. He would. He had promised her he’d be safe…

Yeah, and Yuuma is so reliable. Akari shuddered.

She had paying assignments to work on, and she couldn’t imagine actually doing any of them. She shook her head. Pay your bills, she told herself. One thing at a time.

She was taking notes on a piece about Family Day, and wiping furiously at her eyes, when Haru came in.

“Akari?”

“Oh, Baa-chan.” Akari saw the tray of steaming tea and sandwiches. “Thank you.”

“What are you working on, dear?”

“Just some stuff.” Akari yawned. “Hey, do you know anything about Dr. Faker?”

She meant it half-jokingly, and she grabbed at the cup of tea.

“Of course! Such a nice man. He was so upset when Kazuma disappeared, he paid all the funeral costs himself. He was one of your father’s business partners, you know. It’s a pity we lost touch.”

Akari dropped the teacup, splattered hot tea onto the saucer.

“What?”

“I’m sorry. Of course you wouldn’t know. At the time I didn’t think you needed the extra stress of the funeral costs to worry about…”

“Right. I’m just — surprised.”

“Well, don’t work too much. I’ll have dinner out in an hour or so.”

“Thank you,” Akari said faintly.

The office door closed, and she took a deep, shuddering breath. Dr. Faker had been her father’s business partner? _What_ business? Since _when?_

The door opened again.

“Oh, Akari?”

“Yeah?”

“Will Yuuma be home for dinner?”

Akari stared at the wall. She stared away from Haru’s hopeful expression. She breathed in. 

“Sure,” she whispered. “I’ll…I’ll just run out and get him.”

+++++

Everything was blurred.

Yuuma blinked heavily at his cards. He could barely make out the pictures, let alone the text, and his right arm was twitching. There was a persistent, burning pain around his neck, where the collar had left a ring of burn marks.

Yuuma kept thinking about them and cringing at the thought of the next shock and trying to convince himself that he was brave, that there would not be a next shock.

He wasn’t succeeding. His knees were weak.

“Yuuma?” Astral asked gently. “It’s your turn.”

“Right.”

His tongue hurt.

“I draw. Hope attacks.”

His opponent’s life points dropped to two hundred. Yuuma squinted at the field; no set cards. No monsters. No cards in his opponent’s hand. Was it alright to attack again?

Yuuma pressed a button on his duel disk with a shaking hand. “Leviathan Dragon attacks!”

He waited. _Please, he thought, please. I can_ _’t duel anymore…_

Beep. Down to zero. His opponent howled.

Yuuma wiped at his wet eyes and tried to steady himself. He was still locked into the shock collar. And they were unhooking his fallen opponent and dragging him away, and a new duelist was taking his place.

He was tall, and had dreadlocks. His mouth was cruel.

Yuuma was afraid.

But then, that was why he was here. So that he would learn to not be afraid anymore. Because Shark was…

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Yuu..” Yuuma hesitated. “Yuu.”

“Yuu, huh?” He thumped his chest. “I’m Rikuo. Head of this gang. The best of the best. Sorry, kid, but you’re about to be crushed. With this…”

He held up a card.

Yuuma couldn’t see it clearly, but Astral gasped.

“Number 96…”

“Astral?”

“Yuuma, you should back out of this duel. You’re too weak! You’ll die!”

“No way,” Yuuma slurred. “I’m going to fight for your memories, Astral…”

“Who are you talking to, Yuu?”

“No one,” Yuuma said. “No one. Let’s go! Duel!”

Rikuo didn’t have one Number.

He had two.

_He wasn_ _’t that good,_ Yuuma thought hazily. Yuuma was only getting shocked every other turn. His defense was tight. And everything would be fine, if he could just see…if Astral would stop screaming…

Yuuma stared at Rikuo’s side of the field. Black Mist and Volcasaurus. They had to have a weakness. Every card had a weakness; Astral had taught him that. So Yuuma could definitely win, if he could just…try harder…

Everything went black for a moment. Two moments. A long time.

Then his face was cold.

“Yuuma! Yuuma!”

Blue. Astral’s hands were on his face, fingers sinking through the skin. They were so cold. Astral was so cold. So calculating. But Yuuma, too, was perfectly calm.

“Yuuma, please.” Astral had stopped screaming. “Our victory is in place. Just one more turn.”

_Okay,_ Yuuma thought. He dropped his cards and picked them up again. He was fine. Astral covered his hands with his own, guiding him, and Yuuma played along. Spell card…monster effect…attack…attack…win.

Rikuo screamed in agony.

_What a baby. After the tenth time, I can barely even_ _…feel…it…_

+++++

Akari stalked the back streets of Heartland City, her heart in her mouth. After fleeing her house and calling Yuuma three times to no response, she’d been forced to face the truth. She had no idea where he was or where to look for him.

He was so stupid! She was so stupid, for not watching him more closely! And her parents were the worst of all, for having the temerity to die on them both!

She sucked in a deep breath and blinked back tears. _Think,_ she thought. _Where would he go? Tenjo Industries? A friend_ _’s place? Aunt Yoko’s house?_

Well, a sixteen year old couldn’t get into a heavily guarded corporation easily. Yuuma had to know she’d check with all his friends. And Aunt Yoko wasn’t on speaking terms with anyone since her father had married her mother.

Which left her with nothing, once again.

“Agh! That idiot! What did I do to deserve a brother like this?” She kicked at the ground.

Something small and gold flew across the asphalt and landed in the trash.

“No way…” Akari rolled up her sleeves, held her breath, and dug it. “No way!”

She held up the Emperor’s Key, which was dangling from a broken string. Yuuma always wore it. As far as she knew, other than the one time last week when he’d lost it at school, he never took it off.

And yet here it was. Meaning so was Yuuma.

She took a wet wipe out of her messenger bag and used it to clean both the Key and her hands. It gleamed in the light of the setting sun, and she put it around her neck where it hung reassuringly. Then she looked around. The building on her right and left were residential, but there were stores and clubs on the streets both in front of her and behind her. With any luck, Yuuma was in one of those.

If he wasn’t, well, she’d go door to door if she had to.

The convenience store yielded nothing, although Akari bought a bag of Yuuma’s favorite chips. The next two were strip clubs — she didn’t even bother with those.

The next building had a door that was boarded shut. She passed it by and tried the sex toy shop on the corner. The clerk eyed her suspiciously when she showed them Yuuma’s picture, but they said no, they hadn’t seen him.

Akari sighed as she stood under a lamppost on the street, the darkness falling all around her, lost and alone.

She closed her eyes briefly. Dinner was getting cold at home.

“He’s in the boarded up building.”

Akari whirled around towards the source of the voice — male, young, confident — and saw no one. She looked around carefully, but there wasn’t even a shadow to suggest she had company.

And yet. That was the only place on this street she hadn’t checked.

“I’ll kick your ass if you’re lying.”

No answer.

Akari approached the boarded-up building and tried the door. The hinges were rusty, and they squeaked loudly, but it opened. Inside there was a dark room, dark enough Akari couldn’t see anything but the faint outline of a staircase, leading down.

She hesitated, then got out her dusty deck and fastened it onto her belt. She strapped on her old duel disk. Then she adjusted her bag so it wouldn’t get in the way, flipped on the light on her d-gazer, and began descending.

Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Her boots scraped old wood at the bottom of the steps. There were three doors, right, left and center. She listened at each one.

Behind the left-most door was Yuuma’s voice.

“That’s right. I need more…more power…”

_What the hell,_ Akari mouthed. That was Yuuma’s voice, but not Yuuma’s anything else. She gripped the Key tightly, so hard it hurt, and then tried the door.

It wasn’t locked. And it opened silently.

Yuuma was there, sitting — no, lounging — on a high-backed chair. He was twirling a knife in his fingers with frightening ease; there were two other men in the room, each easily twice his size. They were each down on one knee before Yuuma.

“Sir, we’ve brought the cards you requested.”

“Oh? Show me.”

They showed him handfuls of cards. Yuuma picked through them, then tossed them onto the ground. He snorted in disgust.

“You brought me all this shit?” He kicked one of the men in the head. “Try again. I told you, I want Numbers.”

Numbers were a kind of rare card, if Akari remembered correctly. Yuuma had one or two, although he was reluctant to ever show her his deck. She pressed herself against the doorway.

Something…something really weird was going on. Akari considered herself a skeptic, but nothing normal was coming to mind. Should she reveal herself? Stay back and hope to get more information?

The Key was hot under her hands, and Akari felt a sudden rush of urgency. Something was wrong. And it could only be solved by a duel —

_Wait, what?_

That wasn’t her voice in her head. It was someone else’s.

_Hello?_

_Akari?_

_Who the hell are you?_

_Duel Yuuma._

_Excuse me —_

_There_ _’s not any time —_

There was silence in her head again. Akari shuddered, briefly, at the cold touch of someone else in her mind. Then she reached down to her duel disk and made sure it was attached securely. She slid her deck into it and tightened her d-gazer.

Everything was tinted gold. She focused on that as she stepped into the room.

“Yuuma?”

“Yuuma?” Yuuma laughed a horrible laugh. “Oh, no.”

The two men fled.

Something black and terrible curled up in an amorphous blob behind him. Long, curling tentacles wrapped around his arms, his chest, his neck. Akari could see the faint beginnings of bruises underneath them.

Akari swallowed a mouthful of bile.

The voice coming out of his mouth shifted, until it wasn’t Yuuma’s voice anymore.

“My name is Black Mist,” he said.

Akari felt a heat at her hip, where her Extra Deck was. “What did you do to my brother?”

Slowly, she reached into her deck case. There was a new card in her Extra Deck. It was glowing. She held it up so that Black Mist, or whatever the hell he was, could see it.

It was Number 39: Aspiring Emperor, Hope. Another set of tentacles formed and shot at her, faster than she could ever hoped to dodge.

But there was no need: a bright gold shield appeared in an instant between her and Black Mist, and its light was warm and soft and it gave a strange strength.

She gripped the card so hard she might have been it.

“Fight me.”

“Hope…” Black Mist snarled with Yuuma’s mouth. “I will take it from you.”

“Oh, no, you won’t. I’m taking Yuuma back.” Akari shoved the card back into her deck case and hit the auto-shuffle on her disk. “I’m taking him away form you.”

Akari had never considered herself a duelist before.

Oh, she could play, and she was pretty good. More times than she had liked, a duel had been a part of the job. It was a fun game and Akari sometimes played a duel or two online to relax.

She’d never played with stakes like these.

She’d never cared so much about her cards before.

She ran a dragon deck, because dragons were cool and because that was that archetype her father had suggested when she first started playing. Her father had said she was like a dragon.

Akari had liked that. She’d liked it so much she’d never thought of changing it.

Now she was drawing for Yuuma’s life and wishing she’d paid more attention with every draw.

_I have to get around Black Mist_ _’s effect so that Hope can attack…_

She had Resurrection of the Dead in her hand and nothing else. She could summon a monster this turn, she had the materials, but which monster could get around Black Mist? If he could block her this turn…she was already down to two hundred life.

And then Yuuma would be gone.

No, she wouldn’t lose.

She hesitated. “I’m xyz summoning Thunder End Dragon!”

The Xyz network glowed above her head, blocking out the filthy ceiling. Akari watched as Thunder End Dragon descended, roaring to herald its arrival.

Alright. This was her final turn.

“I activate its effect by detaching one overlay unit! Every monster on the field is destroyed!”

“What?” Black Mist started. Then he laughed. “But Hope will be destroyed too! And with 5000 life points, even with Thunder End Dragon, I’ll win.”

“Now that I’ve gotten rid of your stupid monster,” Akari snapped, “I’ll activate this spell card! And I’ll bring back Number 39: Hope!”

“What?”

“I’m taking back my brother, you — you freak!” Akari pointed. “Thunder End Dragon! Hope! Attack!”

She waited with bated breath. He still had a set card…

_Please,_ she thought. _Please. Let me win._

WINNER: AKARI, the AR flashed.

Yuuma dropped like a puppet with cut strings. Black Mist screeched. The Key glowed white hot and Akari had to shield her eyes as she lurched towards Yuuma’s fallen form.

“Yuuma!”

“Yuuma!” The voice in her head from before said at the same time.

Akari froze.

There was a…a person floating above Yuuma’s body, reaching out to him as he slowly sat up and rubbed at his eyes. He was blue, and he was glowing, and he was naked. He looked like Black Mist, but his relieved smile was kind.

“What the hell,” she whispered.

“Astral…” Yuuma caught sight of her and jumped, nearly tripping over the nearest table. “Akari! What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you, idiot! Come on.” She wiped at her eyes. “Everyone’s waiting for you.” She reached out her hand.

Yuuma stared at it. His eyes, too, filled with tears.

Then he bolted, snatched the Key from around her neck, shoved her aside, and vanished.

+++++

“Kaito-sama?”

Kaito paused mid-step. The dueling club had emptied out with its leader defeated; there was nothing of interest there any longer.

“What, Orbital 7?”

“Why didn’t we capture Yuuma Tsukumo tonight?”

Why hadn’t he captured Yuuma, indeed. Kaito stared over his shoulder past Orbital, at the woman standing in the street. Her eyes were wild, her expression desperate. She was looking for Yuuma, but she wouldn’t find him.

Kaito had seen that look so often, reflected back at him in the mirror. Perhaps that was why he’d helped her earlier.

He could tell himself that making Yuuma go home would make him easier to capture, tell himself he was doing recon before he attempted it, tell himself any number of lies. But what was the point?

Yuuma was someone’s little brother. And tonight, for that woman’s sake, he was safe.

There would be plenty of other nights. Someday soon, Kaito was going to take him apart piece by piece, knock him down to zero, rip out his screams, take his soul.

He clenched his fists.

“Flight mode. We’re hunting.”

He wanted blood. He couldn’t help himself. And why should he?


	14. Revenge Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuma and Kaito meet at last...

“Astral?”

Yuuma leaned back against his sleeping bag, trying to ignore the ache in his muscles. Black Mist had worn him like a cheap suit, and he felt crumpled in the aftermath. Even the faint light of Astral’s body hurt to look at.

“Yes, Yuuma?”

  
“Do you think Akari is mad at me?”

The look on her face when he ran away…Yuuma had been forcibly reminded of his parents’ funeral. She was the one who had always taken care of him — making him do his homework, making sure he ate and slept, scolding him —  and now he wasn’t around. She probably felt like she was failing him.

But it was too dangerous for her. The episode with Black Mist proved it. If she had lost…

“I do not have any siblings.” Astral paused. “But I have you. If I, who have only known you for a short time, am worried, then I imagine your sister, who has known you her whole life, is…very concerned. 

“I can’t help it. It’s too dangerous, isn’t it?”

“It is dangerous. But…Yuuma…perhaps you shouldn’t be alone. Ever since Shark died —”

“Let’s go do some more dueling practice!” Yuuma jumped to his feet, and winced. His legs felt like jelly.

“Yuuma —”

“I’m not alone, Astral. I have you!” Yuuma shrugged on his vest and strapped on his deck. “Right?”

“…of course.” Astral paused. Yuuma didn’t like his expression. “Shouldn’t you sleep, Yuuma? You have school tomorrow.”

Yuuma snorted. “I’m not going to school. I have to look for Kaito.” How could Astral even think about school at a time like this? Kaito had come to his school to kill him! Clearly it wasn’t safe. Besides, if he didn’t avenge Shark, who would?

_Avenge_. Yuuma shivered. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. It didn’t seem right. Yet..and yet…Shark was dead and Kaito was still wandering around. It didn’t sit well with him. It hurt. Yuuma wanted someone else to feel that pain.

He let himself out of the old gymnasium and locked it behind him. The school grounds were dark and quiet; there wasn’t much traffic at this time of night. Yuuma’s eyes were heavy at first, but the cold air forced him awake. He walked to the edge of the ground, crawled through a hole in the fence, and crossed the street.

He walked aimlessly for the most part, avoiding anything that looked too familiar. The streets were mostly empty, and Yuuma stopped only to heal Barianite users lingering in alleyways and to check suspicious buildings for duelists. He looked up once at the sound of something flying overhead, but it was just a helicopter, running a searchlight over the tops of nearby buildings.

“There is no one here,” Astral said. “Maybe you should go home. It’s not far from here.”

It was true. He had somehow ended up, without noticing, only a half hour’s walk away from his neighborhood. Somewhere, his family was sleeping, after a hot meal, in soft beds, unaware of the danger that filled the city all around them.

Yuuma shook his head.

“We keep going.”

“You need to rest. You’re shaking.”

“I have to be strong.” Yuuma looked down at his own trembling fingers.

Astral huffed, but he stopped arguing. He looked like he still wanted to, though.

They continued walking in silence. The street lights flickered, and Yuuma navigated by the faint blue light of Astral’s body and the full moon overhead. There was a bright red heart on a sign up ahead, casting an eerie pall over the street.

Yuuma frowned. The Crimson Heart, it read. There was a spinning card in place of the dot over the _i_ , so it had to be a duelist’s club. The lights in the windows were out, so they were closed. But he could hear noises coming from inside.

“Hey, Astral. Over there.”

He tugged at the front door. It was locked; Yuuma pulled harder. He braced himself, put all his weight into it, and —

— wham! He landed on the ground as the door swung open.

There was someone standing in the dark doorway.

It was a little boy, with blue hair and too-pale skin. He stared at Yuuma with wide eyes.

“You’re not my brother,” he said.

“Eh?”

“I’m looking for Nii-san. Do you know where he is?”

“No…” Yuuma looked over at Astral.

“We can’t leave this child here, Yuuma.”

“I know, Astral.”

“So, we’ll have to help him.” Astral paused. “So, we won’t be able to duel tonight.”

“You don’t have to sound so smug about it.”

“Excuse me,” the boy said. He looked directly at Astral. “Aren’t you cold?”

+++++

Sweat dripped down Kaito’s forehead as he leaned back against the wall of the building behind him. Hidden in the shadows as best he could be, he wished he wasn’t wearing white, and that he had brought Orbital 7 with him tonight. But Orbital’s nagging had grated at him — _“Kaito-sama, you need to rest!”_ — so he’d plugged the bot in and left the lab without him.

Now, as the world spun unpleasantly around him, he was paying the price. He was far from base, and his strength was flagging. Where could he go? What could he do?

An ambulance skidded to a stop nearby, the sound of the sirens punishingly loud in Kaito’s ears. He realized, dimly, that this was Heartland General Hospital.

He saw, in his mind’s eye, Haruto and Rio Kamishiro, equally pale and sick, hooked up to tubes and wires that kept them alive and kept them from living. He wondered if Ryoga had resented him for having a brother that could still walk and talk. He wondered if Ryoga had thought of anything but her as he lay dying. He wondered what he would think of when the time came…

He had to get off the street. He staggered around to the service entrance, which was held locked only by a small keypad that his multitool easily disabled, and dragged himself up the fire stairs until he reached the ward where Rio Kamishiro was. She would have no visitors, and this late at night the nurse would only check in if something went wrong. It was a good place to hide; he had used it before.

He had looked up the room number, after.

Once he was safely ensconced in the room, he sat down heavily in the chair at the bedside.

Kaito dug a chunk of Barianite out of a lead-lined box at his belt, and — being sure to keep the stone against his glove — he laid it against the back of her white hand. Its glow faded away as it crumbled into pinkish dust.

She looked so much like _him._

“You’re in a coma. It doesn’t matter to you if he’s dead.”

He shook his head and tried to close his eyes, to rest, but he was hyperaware of the sound of the heart monitor, and her breathing, and the way his boot scraped across the floor as he fidgeted.

“I had no choice,” he told her. “My brother —”

Kaito did not see the shadow in the glass window set in the door as Vector peered into the room, nor did he hear his footsteps. But Vector saw him, and hid himself in the room next door, frowning. This bore further investigation.

+++++

 

“Where’s Astral?”

After being asked this for the third time, Yuuma’s patience was beginning to wane. He sighed at Haruto, who sat, unnervingly quiet, on the floor beside Yuuma’s sleeping bag. Yuuma had offered to let him lie down, but he had ignored the offer, and so Yuuma rested his aching limbs as best he could.

“He’s busy,” Yuuma repeated.

“Why?”

Yuuma had brought Haruto back to the gymnasium where they were hiding out, while Astral had offered to go Yuuma’s house and check to see if Akari was alright, and to see if she’d done the research on Tenjo Industries. How he was going to do this, Yuuma was not exactly sure — it wasn’t like he could ask Akari anything — but if he wanted to play spy, that was fine with Yuuma. It was good to see Astral was still focused on their mission.

Yuuma felt a pang of guilt at the thought of all the Numbers left unfound, and dismissed it. He was looking for the Numbers, wasn’t he? It was all connected to Kaito somehow.

He closed his eyes. He had to figure out what to do with Haruto. He was a weird kid, Yuuma thought, and he could see Astral. Maybe he was the enemy? But he was so small, and so quiet. Surely if he was an enemy he would have attacked by now.

He could ask Shingetsu, he supposed, but — no. They weren’t friends anymore.

And that left no one.

The room was dark, lit by slices of moonlight that came in through the narrow windows near the ceiling. Yuuma had put out his flashlight to save the battery.

“Hey, how’d you lose your brother, anyway?”

“I didn’t lose him,” Haruto said seriously. “He lost me.”

“Eh?” Yuuma blinked. “Okay…”

He felt bad for Haruto, he did, it was just annoying that he had stopped Yuuma’s plans for the evening, that was all. He crossed his arms. He needed to be out there, hunting down Kaito, and —

“Yuuma?”

“Yeah?”

“How are you going to find my brother?”

“I…uh…” Yuuma considered this. “Do you know your address?”

“No.”

“Do you know what your house looks like?”

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll start there, okay?”

“Okay.”

Poor kid, Yuuma thought. He was probably missing his family. Yuuma could sympathize with that.

He couldn’t stop his big sister from worrying, but he could stop Haruto’s brother’s worries. That was something.

“Yuuma?”

Astral had returned.

“Did Akari find anything out?”

Astral hesitated. “Yes, but…” He crossed his arms, mirroring Yuuma’s pose.

“But what? Come on, tell me already.”

“Well…” Astral glanced over at Haruto, who was watching him intently. “Yuuma —”

“Well?”

“Haruto is the son of a Heartland City industrialist, Dr. Faker. But maybe we should talk about this somewhere else.”

Faker….Faker…the name was familiar. Yuuma drummed his fingers on his leg, trying to remember, but nothing came to mind. “Okay…?”

“And…he has a brother…named Kaito.” The last words came out in a whisper.

Yuuma choked.

“Yuuma, we don’t know that it’s the same —”

“He’s Kaito’s brother?” Before Astral could object, Yuuma whipped around. “Hey, Haruto, is your brother a Numbers Hunter?”

_Is your brother a murderer?_

“My brother,” Haruto said, “brings me screams.”

There was a silence as Astral looked horrified and Yuuma looked contemplative.

“Sounds like Kaito to me,” Yuuma said. “Right, Astral?”

Astral shook his head. “Even if it is the same Kaito — Yuuma — Dr. Faker knew your father.”

“What?”

“Akari discovered a connection between them. We should ask her what else she knows.”

“She doesn’t know anything!” Yuuma stood up. “And my dad isn’t exactly around for her to ask, is he?”

“Do you know Nii-san, Astral?” Haruto asked.

“No.”

“We’ve heard of him.” Yuuma said in the same instant. “Hey, where do you live again?”

“Heartland Tower.”

“Great. Let’s go —”

“Yuuma, can I please speak to you. _Outside._ ” Astral said through clenched teeth.

Yuuma sighed heavily. Astral was being incredibly annoying.

“Fine!” He marched over to the gym door, opened it, locked it carefully from the outside, and slammed it shut behind him. He took a deep breath as Astral floated up in front of him.

“Yuuma, you have to calm down.”

“How can I calm down when Kaito is running around probably killing more people?”

“You’re going to be the one killed if you don’t stop and think!”

“I thought you were my friend, Astral!”

“I am your friend! That’s why I want you to be more careful!”

“I can’t!” Yuuma yelled. His nails were digging into his palms. “Don’t you understand? Kaito killed Shark and I’ll never, ever forgive him!”

“Yuuma!”

“And he’s after the Numbers, so I don’t understand why you don’t —”

“Kaito is dangerous, Yuuma!”

“Haruto might be our chance at tracking him down! He’ll come looking for Haruto and then we can duel him!”

“Yuuma, Haruto is gone.”

“What?”

Yuuma turned around just in time to see Haruto turn a corner and vanish. The door to the gymnasium, a thin bit of metal jammed into the lock, hung open.

“Now will you listen to me?” Astral asked.

Yuuma shook his head. Then he gave chase.

Haruto was faster than he looked, and had the advantage of knowing where he was going; every sudden turn he made slowed Yuuma down that much more. But Yuuma was gaining. Heartland Tower loomed overhead as Haruto ran past it towards the old water tower. Haruto threw himself at the rusty ladder and began climbing; Yuuma watched him ascend as, lungs burning, he reached the bottom of the ladder.

He had to stop briefly then, and catch his breath. He doubled over and breathed, over and over again, while Astral looked on disapprovingly.

“Almost there,” he gasped.

“You shouldn’t do this.”

“It’s my only chance. I’m not,” Yuuma panted and began climbing the ladder, “going to let Kaito get away with this…”

The ladder shook under Yuuma’s weight, but it held until Yuuma reached the top of the tower and clambered up. Haruto was standing there, staring blankly at the sky. He was holding something in his outstretched hand. It looked like candy.

“Haruto?”

“You said you were going to help me find Nii-san,” Haruto said. “But you lied.”

“Haruto, we don’t —” Astral began.

“Your brother killed my friend!” Yuuma burst out. “He killed him!”

“Nii-san is sick. I was going to help him feel better. But I can’t find him. Why can’t I find him?” Haruto stared at Astral. “Why can’t I find him?”

Astral flinched. “Yuuma, please. You know this is wrong.”

A roaring noise came from overhead, and Yuuma had to shout to be heard over it.

“I’m not letting him get away!”

A helicopter with a silver crest on the side descended down on them from above. It landed behind Haruto, who seemed unaffected by the displaced air coming off the blades or the violent noise of them spinning. Its door opened, and a ramp unfolded down onto the old steel of the water tower.

A man stepped out. He was tall, almost twice Yuuma’s height. His hair was long and silver, and he was dressed in purple. Yuuma had never seen him before, but he was instantly a little afraid.

That didn’t stop him, though. He wouldn’t give up now.

“Who are you?” he asked. He grabbed onto Haruto’s arm. “What do you want?”

“Haruto will be coming with us.”

“No way!” Yuuma tugged on Haruto’s arm. “I won’t let you. Duel me!”

“Gauche.”

Another tall man, this one not only taller than Yuuma but also heavily muscled, emerged from the copter. He marched over to where Yuuma and Haruto stood.

“Give it up, kid.” Gauche said. “We’re taking him, and that’s that!”

He picked Yuuma up by the back of his vest and held him out of the way. Yuuma struggled in midair, kicking and screaming, while Astral watched with wide eyes and the silver-haired man took Haruto’s hand and led him away.

“Hey!” Yuuma yelled. “Wait! Are you — are you Kaito?”

The man paused.

“My name is V.” He started walking again. “Gauche, leave him. Tron is expecting us.”

Yuuma was unceremoniously tossed to the ground. He bounced twice on the hard steel surface of the tank and cried out in pain; whatever strength he had was knocked out of him, and he lay there in agony while Haruto and V and Gauche got onboard the copter.

He lay there trying to get up, Astral at his side murmuring for him to stop before he hurt himself, as the helicopter took off.

“Dammit,” he whispered. Everything was hurting again.

“You should have rested. You’re still not recovered from…” Astral trailed off. “Let’s just go home, Yuuma.”

+++++

Kaito passed by an Arclight helicopter as he soared through the night sky. It would be dawn soon, and he would have to return to base and take his medication. He had hunted enough to meet his quota, but he couldn’t bring himself to return to the lab and  rest yet.

Orbital 7 had remained blissfully silent so far after picking him up from the hospital. Flying always gave him a feeling of power; it felt like he was far above all his problems. Somewhere below him was the problem of his brother, and the problem of the Arclights, and the problem of Ryoga and Rio Kamishiro, but up here he was free.

He passed by Heartland Tower, where all the lights in the top floor were out. Haruto must still be at one of the safehouses spread throughout the city. He soared higher, higher, until the seedy and thuds, Kaito closed his eyes and imagined falling. Would it take long for him to hit the ground? Would it hurt, or would there be relief?

“Kaito-sama…?”

“What, Orbital?” He jerked out of his reverie and started to descend back towards the lights of downtown Heartland below.

“I’m picking up a suspicious signal directly below. It’s Yuuma Tsukumo.”

Ryoga’s white face and ge luxurious, the downtown and the uptown, all blended together into one city. Up here the air was cold, and Kaito inhaled and shivered at the iciness in his lungs.

Among a few low riding clorayed hair flashed through his mind.

“Take us down there, now.”

Kaito swooped down between buildings until he was level with the street. Sure enough, there was Yuuma’s pink and black hair, the tiny glint of the Key around his throat shining in the light of the street lamps. He looked small and ordinary, slumped over on an old bench, illuminated by a faint blue glow…

Kaito frowned. There was a floating figure beside Yuuma, naked, blue, and tattooed all over. What or who he was, Kaito had no idea. A Barian, perhaps?

He landed heavily on the ground. Yuuma looked at him, and so did the blue person. They wore identical expressions of fear for a brief moment.

_Good,_ Kaito thought. _Be afraid._

“Yuuma, it’s him.” The blue person said. His eyes wide, he moved between Yuuma and Kaito. “Run!”

Yuuma shook his head. “No way, Astral! He killed Shark.”

“You’re wrong about that.”

“What?”

“I didn’t kill him. I only ripped out his soul.” Kaito paused, then lied. “He’s alive, he’ll just never wake up again.”

He’d been ordered to deliver the body to the Arclights for further research. Kaito doubted Ryoga was anything less than vivisected at this point.

“But…then you could give his soul back!” Yuuma jumped up off the bench.

Kaito saw the telltale flinch as he moved.

“Duel me!” Yuuma said, and he tossed his duel disk into position.

Kaito grinned horribly. With pleasure, he thought, and he activated his duel anchor. Yuuma frowned down at him, but he didn’t seem too alarmed. He was obviously confident at his chances of winning.

Well, he was wrong. Kaito would destroy him. It was partially his fault that Ryoga had had to die, and Kaito intended to repay him in kind. If they hadn’t been looking for him, Ryoga would never have betrayed him. Somehow, Yuuma had convinced him to make the wrong choice. And now he would pay.

Yuuma summoned his Numbers, a golden monster called, ironically, Hope. It was a weak monster. No threat, Kaito thought, no threat at all to his Galaxy Eyes.

Time to show him what a real Numbers Hunter was like.

“I summon Galaxy Eyes Photon Dragon!”

His dragon descended in a spiral of light. Its roar shook the heavens; Kaito’s blood pounded loudly in time with it in his ears. Yuuma Tsukumo took one step back, and then another, as it attacked and its effect went into play.

Hope vanished.

“Yuuma!” The being called Astral cried as Yuuma fell backwards.

Kaito’s heart felt like it would burst from his chest as Yuuma fumbled, still on the ground through his turn. His draw was weak, his field was empty, and everything seemed to be screaming Kaito’s victory. Galaxy Eyes tossed its head as if to disdain being summoned for such a mediocre duel.

“Will you surrender?”

Yuuma clutched at the pendant around his neck. He got up.

“Never,” he said, and promptly fell down again.

“We should have left his brother alone,” Astral said as he hovered over Yuuma, his transparent body offering no protection at all.

And Kaito’s heart stopped.

_Haruto._

He wasn’t aware that he had moved. He wasn’t aware of anything until his hands plunged through Astral’s body and fastened around Yuuma Tsukumo’s neck. He slammed the boy back against the bench where he’d been found.

“ _What was that about my brother?_ ”

Yuuma tried to speak, and couldn’t. Kaito shook him, ten realized he was silent only because Kaito was strangling him. He forced himself — and it was difficult, more difficult than it should have been — to loosen his grip.

“I didn’t…do anything,” Yuuma gasped. His eyes flitted left and right, unable to meet Kaito’s; a lie. “Your friends…came and took him away.”

“My friends? What friends?” Kaito squeezed again, frantic with rage. Haruto was missing? Haruto had been taken? And he’d been flying around, mourning Ryoga and wallowing in his own misery, and his brother had needed him?

“Two men, named V and Gauche.” Astral answered. He floated through Kaito ineffectually. “Let Yuuma go!”

Kaito dropped him.

Kaito had seen him this morning! He’d flown by his fucking helicopter not an hour ago! And he had taken his brother, betrayed Kaito _again_ , borrowed his brother like he was a microscope or a box of copper wiring. Kaito seethed silently as he stood over Yuuma’s body, his fists clenched.

They had crossed the line, he thought wildly. He didn’t care what Tron or Heartland or the Barians said or did. No one was taking his brother.

No one.

He disengaged the duel anchor with numb fingers and turned to take off, determined to rip the city apart stone by stone if necessary, and was stopped by Astral’s voice.

“Wait.”

“What?”

Astral was floating, head cocked to one side, as if listening to some far off noise. One hand was on his chest.

“…I know how to find your brother.”

 

 


End file.
